


Something Human

by beanguni



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Duh it's a zombie apocalypse, Found Family, Guns, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Minor Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi, Minor Jung Wooyoung/Kang Yeosang, Park Seonghwa is Bad at Feelings, violence and fighting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:34:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29698554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beanguni/pseuds/beanguni
Summary: It was hopeless: the man was cornered, he was injured. He was going to die.Seonghwa was going to watch him die.Hope you can live with yourself.“Fuck,” Seonghwa muttered to himself when he realized the decision he’d made, pulling the trigger again.
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 19
Kudos: 87





	1. Dead Man Walking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After my one year break from writing, I'm back with my Ateez debut... hope you enjoy it ♡

Before everything, Seonghwa liked sleeping through the day and being awake at night - when it was quiet and he could study. During the night was also when Yeosang was awake and in class on the other side of the world, so the routine stuck naturally just so he could speak to his best friend.

Now, however, Seonghwa rose with the sun, staying up for as long as it was still there and going to bed soon after it became dark. He didn’t like the night anymore, not when the undead and their grunts filled the previously serene silence.

Seonghwa stretched his arms over his head and grunted, forcing himself to get up when he felt the gentle brush of sunlight on his face. He had nowhere to be and nothing to do, but having a set routine was the only thing that made him feel productive, like he had some control over his life. 

In reality, he knew he didn’t.

The world had been overrun by the undead. He had lost everyone he had ever loved and he had spent the last two years of his life alone. He had no control over anything anymore. 

Seonghwa sat by the window eating his ramen and drinking his coffee, a luxury he allowed himself since there was a factory a few kilometers away which was still pretty much stocked up with dried and sealed beans. Endless supply of coffee for the apocalypse. 

It could be worse, really. 

He sipped on his drink and went over his tasks for the day: securing the building, making sure the weak side of the fence was holding up, going for a supply run to find some more food and wires to strengthen the fence. It was a busy day, all things considered.

Seonghwa took the rest of his coffee with him as he went to the opposite window. He saw what he always did, the dead dragging themselves on the overrun building opposite of his, the empty road three floors below, the abandoned sofa under the red street sign, a boy with blue hair running from a massive horde of undead-

Wait, what?

Seonghwa almost choked on his drink, dropping the mug as he leaned into the glass. It wasn’t often Seonghwa saw other people, but on the unlikely occasion they did appear, he would hide and wait for them to pass (or threaten them into leaving if they tried to enter his property). He watched and waited to see which one of the two the blue-haired guy was going to be. 

Who even bothered dyeing their hair during the apocalypse, anyway?

From what Seonghwa could see, he was alone, bleeding, and seemed exhausted, holding his injured stomach as he ran, glancing behind him from time to time. Seonghwa’s eyes shifted to the end of the road, where he saw the end of the horde starting to turn the corner, following the man. 

There were around a hundred but it shouldn’t be a problem, the undead would follow the man down the road, driving the danger away from where Seonghwa was. 

When Seonghwa’s eyes turned back to look for the man he found his first problem - he was not there anymore. 

Immediately after, he encountered the second problem - the man was actually trying to climb over his fence. 

Seonghwa got up in a reflex and their eyes locked.

Guess hiding was not an option anymore. 

Seonghwa grabbed his gun from the table and pushed the window open, pointing right at the man. 

“Don’t!” Seonghwa heard him scream, halfway up on the fence. “Please don’t shoot.” 

Seonghwa swallowed, heart starting to pick up its pace. “You’re not welcome here, just keep going,” he said, trying to avoid the situation from getting any worse. 

“Please, help me.” 

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can! Just let me in, you’re high up, I’ll be safe!” 

“Keep going,” Seonghwa repeated, voice firm and loud. The horde was getting closer and their screaming conversation was not helping one bit, some of the undead already finding their new target on the window.

When the man ignored Seonghwa and tried to climb further up, Seonghwa pointed his gun at the sky and fired a warning shot. The man fell back on the ground, the noise scaring him, then immediately wrapped his arms around himself. 

Seonghwa wondered what had happened to him, if he had been bitten, if he could be saved, but he quickly brushed the thought aside. It didn’t matter.

“I said, keep going.” 

The man then looked up at Seonghwa again, ignoring the gun pointing his way. “I can’t anymore, I’ve lost too much blood. You’re the last hope I have.” His hand grabbed the fence and Seonghwa saw his palm was tainted red. “Please, help me. Please, I don’t want to die.” 

Seonghwa tightened his hand around the grip of his gun, something awful burning in his chest. “You’ve survived this far, you won’t die.” 

He wasn't sure he was trying to convince the man or himself. 

“I hadn’t been stabbed then, asshole!” the man yelled, sounding annoyed. So it wasn’t a bite, he had been stabbed. That didn’t help Seonghwa trust him any more than he did before. “It looks safe up there, please, just- I’ll wait for the horde to pass then I’ll leave.” 

The man glanced behind him, the undead were getting closer. “Better start running again.” Seonghwa was starting to hear the undead's moans already, if he was going to survive he had to leave. 

“What part of stabbed didn’t you hear?!” the man shouted, _definitely_ annoyed then. “I can’t go on anymore, I need your help, only you can help me.” When Seonghwa gave no reply other than his cold stare and his silence the man stumbled up, using the fence as support. One hand held his stomach, the other held a large knife, getting ready to fight. “Well, you’re watching me die, then. Hope you can live with yourself,” he said, looking right in Seonghwa’s direction before turning his attention back to the dead. 

Seonghwa didn’t expect the words or the way they would make his stomach twist, guilt burning hotter in his chest.

The man roared his furious war cry and launched himself forward, sinking his knife on an undead’s head, then another and another. Seonghwa saw him sway on his feet between each stab, clearly getting weaker each time with the effort. He wasn’t backing down, though, he would fight till the end. 

Seonghwa heard his screams and watched him take down undead after undead, but there were too many and they were getting too close. 

It was hopeless: the man was cornered, he was injured. He was going to die. 

Seonghwa was going to watch him die. 

_Hope you can live with yourself._

“Fuck,” Seonghwa muttered to himself when he realized the decision he’d made, pulling the trigger again. “ _Fuck_ , Seonghwa.”

He emptied the magazine of his gun on the heads of the undead closest to the man, running for the stairs the moment he was out of bullets. As he ran down the steps, clicking another full magazine into his gun, heart almost pounding out of his chest, he shook his head.

“This is a bad idea,” he told himself, “you’re going to regret this.” 

When Seonghwa reached the bottom of the stairs he went for the door, unlocking it and removing the safety bar before he ran outside. The scene was closer then, a man with a full head of blue hair in a white shirt soaked in his own blood fighting zombies with only a knife.

Seonghwa raised his gun again and took a few more shots, buying himself enough time to reach the fence, getting there just in time to watch the weak spot he’d seen the night before crumbling under the pressure of the undead pushing against it. 

“Shit, shit, shit.” 

The man slipped through the new hole of the fence just before the dead followed and Seonghwa’s body acted on instinct, not even looking at his face before grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the entrance of the building. Seonghwa reckoned the man stumbled more than walked, but they made it inside the building safely, Seonghwa quickly placing all the locks and bars back on the door with shaky hands. 

When Seonghwa finished the task and turned around, ready to unleash his anger at the man, he noticed he wasn’t standing anymore. 

“Oh, the fuck you don’t,” Seonghwa said to the unconscious man on the floor. “You don’t destroy my goddamn fence to get inside then die anyway! No, _you don’t!_ I can't- I don't-” He then yelled out in anger. 

As Seonghwa panted he accepted it was useless to scream and do nothing, so he sighed, ran a nervous hand through his hair, and dropped to his knees. He turned the man on his back. 

His face had too much blood and dirt on it for Seonghwa to make anything of it, but that was the least of his concerns. He pressed two fingers on the man’s pulse point and held his breath for a moment, only letting it out when he felt the rhythm thumping against his fingers. 

Alive, then. 

Next, Seonghwa grabbed the man’s shirt and pulled it up, confirming he had in fact been stabbed and not bitten. He then inspected the rest of his body, his arms, legs, but found nothing.

There were undead slamming on the door already, moaning and screaming, and even if Seonghwa knew they weren’t getting through those doors, he still would like to put some distance between himself and the danger. 

Seonghwa assessed the man’s body. He looked way shorter than Seonghwa was, built less wide as well, almost delicate. He would bet the man to be weak and fragile if he hadn’t just witnessed him singlehandedly killing around twenty undead while on the brink of losing consciousness. 

Seonghwa stared at him for another moment, then slid a hand under his neck and another under his knees, standing up with him on his arms. It was unnerving having someone limp on your arms like that, so Seonghwa chose to focus on the positive side - the man was not that heavy, as expected. 

Still, going up three flights of stairs with an adult man on your arms would wear out anyone, and by the time Seonghwa reached the third floor his legs were burning. He looked around his apartment before deciding to take the man to his bedroom, placing him on the bed more roughly than he should, maybe due to how angry he was. 

Seonghwa took a step back and looked down at the unknown men in his bed, then at his own arms covered in blood, then out of the window where he could see the undead roaming inside his property. 

He pressed his eyes shut. 

“What the fuck have I just done.”

\--

When Hongjoong fluttered his eyes open the first thing he registered was pain. It was tearing and throbbing and awful. He tried to take a hand to his side to assess the damage, but he found resistance, something tugging on his wrists. 

He looked down and his heart sank at the realization his hands were tied to each side of the bed he was lying at, as were his feet. He trashed on the mattress only to be met with more pain, crying out pathetically. 

He was bare from the waist up, save for a white bandage that was wrapped tightly around his waist, covering the part where it hurt. He hadn't done that, so who had? 

Hongjoong frowned and looked around, limbs going cold when he realized he wasn’t alone. 

There was no other way to describe the man other than terrifying. His tall frame was dressed in full black and leather, arms folded over his chest as he leaned his shoulder on the doorframe. His hair was parted on the side and falling on his eyes, which were glaring at Hongjoong with a burning intensity.

Hongjoong was terrified, tied up and vulnerable, but somewhere on the back of his mind he registered that this man could have killed him and he chose not to, so he forced his anxiety down and cleared his throat.

“So, who talks first? You? Me?” Hongjoong asked, trying to sound pleasant. The man narrowed his eyes, managing to look even more threatening, not answering his questions. “It’s rude to stare, you know, especially when I’m not decent.” 

The man raised a thick brow, not moving or saying anything else.

“Did you undress me? Usually, I want dinner first.” More silence. Hongjoong dropped the act. “Not one for jokes, then? Fine. Where am I? Who are you?” 

The man finally moved, leaning away from the doorframe. Hongjoong’s heart flipped on his chest when he leaned down, only a slight bit, as if to further demonstrate _he_ was the one calling the shots.

“Let me make this perfectly clear,” the man began, voice as deep and threatening as his appearance. “ _I_ ask, _you_ answer. Who the fuck are you?”

Hongjoong swallowed. “My name is Hongjoong. What’s yours?” 

“Why are you here?” the man asked, ignoring Hongjoong’s question.

“No name? Really?” Hongjoong sighed, “I was running from the horde when I saw you from the window. Thanks for the help, by the way, that was a close call.” 

“A close call?” the man asked, tone getting slightly more confrontational. “You tore down my fence and let the dead in, I spent the entire day yesterday cleaning after your goddamn mess.” 

Hongjoong swallowed dry. “Sorry?” he tried.

“You should be.” The man folded his arms over his chest again. “Who knows you’re here?” 

“No one,” Hongjoong answered honestly. 

“Don’t lie to me.” 

“I swear, no one knows I’m here. I don’t have anyone.” Now that was a lie, but Hongjoong wouldn’t have this hot-headed man thinking someone was coming to rescue him, trespassing into the precious garden he had already let the dead in.

“You expect me to believe you’re alone? I’m not an idiot.” 

Hongjoong looked around and noticed a few things. First, everything was oddly clean and organized, but that didn’t really matter. Second and most importantly, there were only objects on one of the bedside tables. Third, it was dead silent outside the room they were in, no whispering, no pacing, nothing. 

“Obviously you’re alone too, so why is that so hard to believe?” 

The man pondered over the answer for a moment, then seemed to accept it. So he _was_ truly alone. Hongjoong couldn’t imagine surviving this long without his people. 

“Who stabbed you?”

 _Mingi’s knife slipped when we were fighting the dead_ , the answer came to his tongue but he swallowed back and forced his brain to come up with something. “I was looking for some supplies at a gas station and got cornered by a group. They wanted what was mine, I fought for it.”

The man seemed to accept that lie even quicker than the previous one and Hongjoong wanted to immediately ask what kind of fucked up people he’d been running into if that was so easy to believe.

He nodded then added after a while, “Your wound is clean for now, but you were running a fever all night, so it’s best if you take these.” He leaned into the coffee table and grabbed a few pills and a glass of water. 

“No,” Hongjoong said immediately, shaking his head. He didn’t know this person, those pills could be anything.

The man stopped and glared at Hongjoong again. “If you die, you’ll turn and I’ll have to kill you. I don’t want the hassle. Take the pills.” 

“No.” 

“Take the pills or I’ll throw you out right now,” the stranger threatened. 

Hongjoong reckoned he couldn’t even stand, he was in a lot of pain and felt weak, exhausted. He didn’t really have a choice.

Hongjoong parted his lips, giving his permission, and the man moved again, placing three pills inside his mouth. Hongjoong raised his head so that the rude stranger could press the rim of the glass to his lips and took a sip to swallow them. 

Hongjoong realized just how thirsty he was when the water hit his throat, greedily starting to take big gulps. Surprisingly, the man was patient with him, turning the cup slowly so he could have it all. When Hongjoong was done, his head fell back on the pillow, the effort making it spin. 

“Rest,” the man said, sounding like he was giving an order. “As soon as you feel better, you leave.”

Before Hongjoong could say anything, the man turned around and left. He would normally be frustrated and yell for him to come back, but he was too tired, sleep claiming him quickly after that.

\--

“Hm. How do I do this? Mister- angry? Dark Lord?” Seonghwa stopped cleaning his gun when he heard the voice coming from his bedroom. “Hyung, maybe? Yes, definitely, he looks older. Hyung?” Hongjoong called.

Seonghwa frowned. Did he look older? Hongjoong looked like he was around his age. He got up from the table and went into his room, surprised when Hongjoong smiled when he saw him.

“There he is! Good morning.” 

“It’s not morning,” Seonghwa stated, matter-of-factly. “You slept through another day.” 

Hongjoong hummed in recognition. “That’s why I feel a little less like death. I’m starving, though, do you have anything I could eat?”

Seonghwa stared at Hongjoong for a bit, eyes scanning him from his head to his feet. He left the room and came back with some steaming ramen, placing it on the bedside table. 

Seonghwa stepped closer. “I will loosen the restraints on your feet so you can sit. Try anything funny and you’re dead. Understood?” 

“Loud and clear, hyung.” 

Seonghwa narrowed his eyes at Hongjoong, then started to loosen the restraints. He didn’t take them off, just giving enough room for the other to sit, then stepped back. 

Hongjoong frowned. “You’re not taking these off?” He tugged at his wrist. 

“No,” Seonghwa replied simply.

Hongjoong wanted to argue, but the look on Seonghwa’s face was final. He supposed he could give the guy the benefit of the doubt, he’d been under his care for two days and nothing bad had happened. 

Apart from all the intimidating and tying up, of course.

“Alright,” Hongjoong murmured, then placed his palms at the mattress, supporting himself so he could sit. 

He quickly learned he couldn’t, a sharp stabbing pain growing on his stomach when he tried. Hongjoong whimpered and lied back down, closing his eyes, breathing coming faster. 

Hongjoong startled when he felt a hand on his shoulder and when he opened his eyes Seonghwa was right there, hovering over him, silky hair falling in a curtain around his face. 

“Come on, I’ll help.” 

Hongjoong didn’t think help was the right word because one moment he was lying and on the next, he was sitting without making any effort, Seonghwa having done all the work. Seonghwa sat next to him, hands still on his shoulders, making sure he was stable. 

Hongjoong just stared at his face, not sure of what to say. It was confusing how Seonghwa spoke so rudely, so harshly, and acted so kind toward him. He’d obviously changed his bandages, cleaned his body, gave him pills to make him feel better, helped him to sit. He didn’t seem like a bad person to Hongjoong, it seemed as if he just really _really_ didn’t trust people.

“Thank you, hyung,” Hongjoong said, trying for a smile. Seonghwa’s hands fell from his shoulders.

Seonghwa grabbed the steaming cup of ramen and opened it, stirring them with some chopsticks. “I don’t think I’m your Hyung,” he said after a few moments, not looking at Hongjoong’s face. 

“Pretty sure you are. I’m 24.” 

Seonghwa huffed. “So am I, Hongjoong.” 

“Really?” 

Seonghwa frowned at his tone of surprise. “You don’t have to seem that shocked.” 

Hongjoong didn’t know the other that well, he didn’t even know his name, but he was _pretty sure_ that was a sulking pout. He chuckled. “Sorry, Dark Lord, the whole- I don’t know, attitude made you look older, but now that we’re close I can see you being 24.”

He _did_ look his age, Hongjoong realized, younger even if he wouldn’t frown so much. He had a strong face with high cheekbones and a defined jaw, but his lips were plump and a deep shade of red. Not that he was staring, but Seonghwa was blowing on the ramen to make them cooler and it was impossible not to notice them, or everything else about him. Handsome, Hongjoong concluded, _very_ handsome. 

Hongjoong opened his mouth obediently when Seonghwa offered him the ramen, slurping until he had a full mouth. He had been so hungry he focused only on eating, staring at the steaming cup rather than at Seonghwa’s face. 

“Who is Mingi?” 

Hongjoong stopped chewing, raising his eyes to meet Seonghwa’s. “Pardon?” 

“You talk in your sleep. You called a few names, Mingi was one of them.” 

“What other names?” 

Seonghwa thought about it for a moment. “San. Yunho. And Mingi. Mingi most of all. Who are they?”

Hongjoong swallowed. He could lie and say those were random names, but he hardly thought he could make it sound convincing. “People I cared about.”

“From before?”

“Yes,” Hongjoong lied. “From before. What did I say?” 

“You would just call them, sometimes tell them to be careful. With Mingi it was always more intense, you repeat _I forgive you_ a lot of times. You cry too.” 

Hongjoong averted his eyes. He remembered the moment he and Mingi were back to back fighting the horde, an overwhelming number of dead trying to get to them, San and Yunho further away, screaming their names, desperate, watching them get cornered without being able to help. 

As they fought was when Mingi swung his knife and missed an undead, hitting Hongjoong instead. Things got hazy after that, but he remembered Mingi crying and screaming his name, begging him to forgive him and to not stop fighting. Hongjoong couldn’t reply, spending his energy on being awake and avoiding being bitten, but he ran one way and Mingi ran to another, never getting his reply. 

“Yes, I think about them a lot,” Hongjoong said, not even having to lie. 

“They didn’t make it?” 

Hongjoong offered a small smile. “I don’t know, I hope they did.”

Seonghwa nodded, understanding, offering him more ramen. Hongjoong couldn’t let himself think about his group now, he had to believe they were fine and as soon as he was okay, he would go to them. They had to be fine. 

“So, hyung-”

“Not your hyung,” Seonghwa interrupted. 

Hongjoong laughed. “So tell me what I should call you.” Seonghwa just stared. “Hyung it is. So, hyung, how long have you been here?”

“Remember what I said, no questions.” 

Hongjoong rolled his eyes. “Ask me something then, so we can talk. I hate eating in silence.” 

Seonghwa huffed, glancing from the chopsticks to Hongjoong’s face. “Why the blue hair?”

“What?” 

“Why bother dyeing your hair? It’s the end of the world.” 

Hongjoong full-on laughed that time, going to cover his mouth with his hand before he remembered he was tied up. “So? I shouldn’t look nice just because it’s the end of the world? If anything, maintaining it is easier because I have free bleach and free dye.” 

That was the first time Hongjoong saw something that resembled a smile on Seonghwa’s face. “Can’t argue with that logic.” 

“You should try it out too.” 

“I don’t think it would suit me.” 

Hongjoong huffed. “You’re beautiful, anything would suit you,” he said, not giving it too much thought before he _heard_ himself. “Ask me something else,” he added quickly. 

Seonghwa had his head down, stirring the ramen. “I don’t have anything else to ask.” 

“So let me ask something.” 

“No.” 

Hongjoong huffed. “Keep the attitude and I’ll give up trying being your friend, hyung.” 

That made Seonghwa’s face go back to a blank. “We’re not going to be friends,” he said, tone even. 

The food was done, so Seonghwa got up and tightened Hongjoong’s restraints again. 

“Call me if you need something,” Seonghwa said before leaving, not sparing Hongjoong another glance.

Hongjoong huffed, pride slightly hurt, before he lied back down, wondering what the hell was wrong with Seonghwa. 

\--

Hongjoong needed to pee. 

Hongjoong _desperately_ needed to pee, actually, but he was bitter over Seonghwa’s rudeness. 

His eyes widened when he felt a pinch on his bladder. He realized he would lose the rest of his dignity if Seonghwa walked in and saw him in a puddle of his own urine.

“Dark Lord?” Hongjoong called. “Grumpy cat? Angry bird? I need you.” 

“Angry bird?” Seonghwa asked, walking into the room with a raised brow. 

“Perfect nickname if you ask me, you look just like it.” Another pinch to his bladder. “ _Shit_. Okay, alright. I need to go to the bathroom, hyung. Like, desperately.”

Seonghwa’s annoying brow rose even further. “And you waited until it’s that bad before you called me?” 

“Yes! Now, could you please?” he tugged at his restraints, “I’m about to die.” 

Seonghwa huffed and started working on the ropes on Hongjoong’s feet, not particularly fast, which was extremely upsetting.

When Seonghwa opened his mouth to say something, Hongjoong interrupted. “If I try anything, I’m dead. I know, I know. Hurry up, birdy, come on.” 

Seonghwa couldn’t hold back a small smile, but he hid it by concentrating on what he was doing. 

Thankfully, Seonghwa offered him a hand, helping Hongjoong to his feet without him having to ask for it, which did wonders for his ego. 

Nonetheless, standing vertically again wasn’t as easy as Hongjoong expected and his vision went black immediately. He lost sense of direction and felt himself falling again, hands uselessly reaching for something to keep himself upright. 

Hongjoong expected the impact, he expected the pain he would get from it, but the only thing he got was something firm pressing against his front. He groaned, letting his forehead rest against it as he tried to force his knees to not give out and his head to stop spinning. 

It was soft, this surface, and smelled clean and fresh, like citrus.

Seconds passed slowly, but eventually Hongjoong started to feel less like a floating feather and more like a human that experienced gravity. His hands tightened around what was keeping him upright, trying to let the feeling go. 

“Hongjoong?” the surface asked. 

Hongjoong stopped breathing for a moment. He was more aware of his body, but he wasn’t sure he was happy about it now that he realized it was wrapped around Seonghwa’s. 

Hongjoong’s arms were wrapped around Seonghwa’s waist, hands clawing at his back and forehead resting on his chest, Seonghwa’s arms around his shoulders in return. He was _painfully aware_ of how shirtless he was then, because he could feel the warmth of Seonghwa’s fingers on his skin.

“Hongjoong?” Seonghwa called again.

Hongjoong swallowed around his dry throat. “Yes?” 

Seonghwa pulled away slowly, hands only letting go when he got confirmation Hongjoong could stand on his own.

“You should clean yourself, you smell like death.” 

Hongjoong felt his cheeks warm, embarrassed beyond belief. “Maybe that’s because you tied me up after I killed like a thousand zombies! I’ve probably had all types of disgusting stuff on my hair for days because of you,” he hurried to explain himself. 

“Because of me?”

Hongjoong raised a finger and pressed in the middle of Seonghwa’s chest, cheeks still feeling warm. “Yes. Mister _I don’t trust you, so stay tied up in bed while you’re covered in zombie gunk_.” He emphasized some words with the poke of his finger.

Seonghwa’s hand went to hold Hongjoong’s probing finger. “I don’t trust you.” 

Hongjoong rolled his eyes. “Yes, Lord Voldemort, you made that very clear already, but here I am untied and surprise surprise, I _didn’t_ attack you.”

“It’s been two minutes and you’re still badly injured.” 

“That doesn’t matter.” Hongjoong’s tone turned serious. “I’m not a bad person, you helped me, you saved me, I owe you my life. Why would I try to hurt you after that?” 

Seonghwa stared into Hongjoong’s eyes, who held his gaze. Hongjoong was waiting for an answer, but Seonghwa didn't seem interested in offering one. “You want to know how I know you’re lying to me about being alone in this world?” he asked instead. “You still trust other people.” 

“What makes you say that?” 

Seonghwa huffed when Hongjoong didn’t even try to deny it. “I can tell you trust me.” 

“If you wanted to hurt me, you would have already. You chose to help me when you could have let me die, so yeah, I trust you to some extent.”

“Then you’re an idiot. You can’t tell someone’s character after meeting them for a day, not in today’s world.” 

Hongjoong huffed his indignation. “There are good people left, hyung.” 

“Funny you say that when none have crossed my way since the start.” 

“Maybe because you don’t let them!” 

“I have learned my lesson, Hongjoong.” 

“What does that mean?” 

Seonghwa then frowned, realizing that it was turning into a heated discussion and that Hongjoong was getting too much out of him. That wasn’t supposed to happen. 

Seonghwa took a step back and opened the wardrobe, fishing some clothes out of it, a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. “There is a bucket of water, some soap, and shampoo in the bathroom. Clean yourself up, then put this on.” 

Hongjoong wanted to say a thing or two, but it would be of no use when Seonghwa was obviously so hardheaded. 

“Okay.” 

“There are also clean bandages in the cabinet, so you change those too.”

“Okay.”

“Then you’re back to where you’ve been.” Seonghwa glanced at the bed and the restraints. “You’re welcome to try your chances on the road any time you want, but if you choose to stay under my roof until you have any real chance of surviving out there, you abide by my rules.”

“Fine,” Hongjoong grunted, grabbing the clothes and walking around Seonghwa and into the bathroom. He didn't want to hear any more from Seonghwa anyway.

Hongjoong was so upset he almost forgot how much he wanted to pee once he shut the door behind him. He cursed Seonghwa in his head as he cleaned himself up, upset at the fact he didn’t know his name so he could create more mean nicknames to call him by.

He wished he had an ugly name to match his ugly attitude. Rude ass.

Hongjoong left the task of changing his bandages for when his hair and body were already clean, unwrapping himself in front of the mirror. He winced when he saw the cut, it wasn’t that big, more like a slit, but it had red streaks all around. It felt hot and swollen too, but Hongjoong wouldn’t know if that was normal or not, his group had had two previous medical students for a long time and they always treated everyone else’s wounds. 

He bit his lip to avoid making any noise as he threw some water and soap over it, finishing up as quick as he could before wrapping it up in something clean again. Hongjoong’s head was light from the pain and he felt cold and tired, so he just put on the hoodie he’d been given and stepped out of the bathroom. 

Seonghwa was finishing changing the sheets of the bed. 

“You left your post at the door? How careless of you, what if I made a run for a knife at the kitchen?” Hongjoong couldn’t help but say, bitterly. 

When Seonghwa turned around, he looked at Hongjoong from head to toe. Seeing if the clothes had fit, Hongjoong assumed. The hoodie was too big, his hands disappearing into the sleeves, but the pants fit fine when he tightened the string.

Seonghwa looked away. “Then you would find out just how fast I am,” he said in an even tone.

Hongjoong huffed, walking back to the bed before Seonghwa had to ask. “I’m probably faster,” he murmured half-heartedly.

“I doubt it, especially with a cut that deep on your stomach.” 

Hongjoong sat on the mattress, willing himself not to wince despite the pain. “It didn’t look that bad to me.” 

Seonghwa hummed, not really in the mood to discuss Hongjoong’s obvious lie. “Sure. Do you want something to eat?” 

The mere idea of it made Hongjoong feel like throwing up. “Not hungry. I’m just tired. Getting stabbed will do that to you, I guess,” he added with a dry joking tone at the end. 

“Sure, you should rest. The sooner you get better, the sooner you can leave.” 

Hongjoong bit back a snarky remark and just nodded, laying back on the bed and falling asleep even before Seonghwa finished tying back his restraints. 

\-- 

Seonghwa finished checking on the fence, as he did every night, then locked up the building, going back to his floor. 

He sat by the window and looked out into the road, desert, silent, as it usually was. Hongjoong had been quiet since that morning, not even waking up for dinner, so he tried to occupy himself with other things.

Still, Seonghwa couldn’t help but go into the room from time to time, standing there and watching the pile of blankets on his bed. He could only tell for sure Hongjoong was sleeping under there because there were a few strands of blue hair peeking at the top. He would always flee at the slightest movement Hongjoong made, knowing he wouldn't have any reason to just be standing there and staring.

Like a worried person would. Because he was not worried. Of course not.

The overwhelming urge to check on Hongjoong, make sure he was alright, just sleeping, when Seonghwa hardly knew him, was unsettling. 

It wasn’t that Seonghwa cared about him - because he _didn’t_ \- but Hongjoong just seemed so… genuine, open. Innocent, even, like the new world hadn’t crushed his soul like it had Seonghwa’s. It was almost fascinating. 

Seonghwa told himself that's why he wanted to constantly check on Hongjoong, to see if he was awake. He had been the first person in a long time to remind him of before. It was an entirely selfish reason. He wasn't worried. He wanted to remember before.

Seonghwa missed before.

He missed helping his mom with the restaurant, he missed going to his favorite idol’s fan meetings, he missed university, he missed going to concerts with Yeosang. 

Seonghwa huffed, remembering how much he and Yeosang used to complain about the distance between them after he went to do a semester abroad. 

Yeosang would complain about the American food and Seonghwa would complain that he couldn’t meet Yeosang's new boyfriend in person. They both acted like the temporary distance between them was the end of the world. That all sounded stupid now, when the world had _actually_ ended.

Seonghwa’s face hardened and he jumped to his feet when he heard groaning, looking out of the window to locate the undead making the noise, how close it was. He couldn’t see it, but the noise continued, small groans and moans. 

Seonghwa leaned further out the window, but strangely enough, that just made the sound lower. 

He frowned in confusion.

Then the grunt took shape, forming a name, and Seonghwa sighed in relief when he realized it was just Hongjoong talking in his sleep again.

Seonghwa walked to the door of his room to check, heart sinking when he realized something was wrong. Hongjoong was tossing and turning on the bed, his forehead glistening with sweat, eyes pressed shut tightly. 

Seonghwa stepped closer and placed his hand on Hongjoong’s forehead, lips going dry when he got the confirmation Hongjoong had a fever again. 

Seonghwa tried to remember if he had given Hongjoong the antibiotic pills earlier that morning when they spoke. He would usually offer them with Hongjoong's meals… except that time Hongjoong had slept through dinner. 

“Hongjoong?” Seonghwa called. “Hongjoong, wake up, I want to check your dressings.” 

No reply, Hongjoong going on with his murmuring and turning, pulling on the restraints in his sleep. 

Seonghwa would much rather do this when Hongjoong was awake and aware, but since he seemed to be a very heavy sleeper, Seonghwa would just have to do it like the last time, as Hongjoong slept. 

Seonghwa sat on the bed next to Hongjoong and carefully raised his hoodie so he could see the bandages. The first bad sign was that they weren’t clean, some red spotting on the fabric. 

When Seonghwa removed it and saw the wound he sighed, seeing what was obviously the start of an infection. It was red, swollen, the skin around it warm and tender, the reason why Hongjoong was running a fever.

Seonghwa went into the bathroom and grabbed new bandages and some alcohol, rushing back and starting to clean the cut. 

He ignored the way his hands were shaking.

As Seonghwa expected, Hongjoong reacted when he started, just like last time, but he shushed him gently and worked fast. Hongjoong still groaned and whimpered, tugging at the restraints. Seonghwa saw his wrists were red and marked, the skin irritated by the pulling. 

He was removing them before his mind even had the chance to yell that was a bad idea. 

Seonghwa doubted he could wake Hongjoong up to take the meds, so he chose some other methods to break his fever. First, he pulled the blanket off Hongjoong’s body completely, removing that extra layer that was warming him up. Next, he grabbed a wet cloth from the bathroom and after gently pushing the hair that had stuck to Hongjoong’s forehead to the side, placed it there.

Seonghwa stood up straight and tried to figure what else he could do, chewing on his lip anxiously as he studied Hongjoong.

Hongjoong seemed distressed even in sleep, brows furrowed and jaw tense. 

Seonghwa reached for him, but pulled back in a reflex. He rolled his eyes at himself. “He won't see it.” 

It was annoying that Seonghwa was overthinking things so much, but he couldn't help himself. It was just something about Hongjoong.

Seonghwa sat on the bed next to Hongjoong, using the sleeve of his shirt to gently dab the sweat off his face and neck, watching as Hongjoong’s face slowly became more peaceful.

Objectively, Seonghwa knew there was nothing else for him to do, but he still stood there, sitting, staring. His eyes scanned Hongjoong back and forth, trying to come up with something else to do to help him, but there was nothing.

He didn't know why he felt so useless.

Hongjoong groaned softly and turned on his side, cradling his hands on his chest and burying his face on the pillow. A small smile tugged on the corner of Seonghwa's lips.

Minutes turned into hours, but Seonghwa didn't leave, grabbing a chair and placing it right by Hongjoong's bed.

Not to be close to him because he was worried, of _course_ not. It was just that being right by the bed would make it easier for Seonghwa to replace the wet cloth on his forehead or hold him down if he woke up and tried something funny.

No, Seonghwa wasn’t worried at all.

\--  


Hongjoong’s head was spinning, which seemed unfair because he hadn’t even opened his eyes yet. He brought his hands to his face and squeezed his temples, trying to make the room stay still, but his fingers found something wet and heavy there. 

Hongjoong opened his eyes and looked up at the cloth, frowning in confusion.

His slow mind didn’t remember everything at once, registering he wasn’t home first. He then remembered an apocalypse had happened, but still, he could tell he wasn’t in his after-home. 

The confusion didn't last long, all the memories rushing back at once, being chased by the horde, Mingi’s accident, running away, meeting Seonghwa, and everything that came after. 

He grabbed the cloth and looked at it, getting even more puzzled when he realized he _could_ , nothing holding his hands back anymore. 

That’s when Hongjoong saw Seonghwa. He was sitting in a chair next to his bed, sleeping, a bowl filled with water on his lap, dangerously close to slipping to the floor. 

It was shocking how different he looked like that, with no frown twisting his pretty face. 

Hongjoong shook himself when he realized he had been staring, reaching for the bowl before it could drop on the floor.

Seonghwa startled awake, eyes going wide and searching for the danger around him. His gaze softened in a way Hongjoong thought wasn't possible when their eyes met.

“Hi,” Seonghwa said in a breath.

“Hey,” Hongjoong murmured, taken aback by Seonghwa’s gentle tone. 

Seonghwa seemed to take a hold of himself, clearing his throat and straightening his back. “How are you feeling?” he asked in a tone that sounded more familiar to Hongjoong. 

Hongjoong had a sore throat, felt like throwing up, his head was throbbing and he was unbearably cold. “Not good,” he admitted. “Everything hurts.”

Seonghwa nodded, then reached for the nightstand, taking a glass that had a striped pastel pink straw in it. “I think you got an infection, take these, it should help with the fever. You wouldn’t wake up during the night, so I couldn’t give them to you.” 

Hongjoong took the pills and the glass Seonghwa offered to him, barely managing to keep his eyes from going wide when Seonghwa slid a hand behind his neck, helping him raise his head to take them. The touch didn’t linger, going away as soon as Hongjoong finished drinking the water. 

“You told me the cut looked fine yesterday when you cleaned it,” Seonghwa said over Hongjoong's racing heart.

“It did.” 

“So it wasn’t red or swollen? The edges looked completely clean? No pain? Because I don’t think it could have gone from being completely fine to infected in a couple of hours.” 

Hongjoong licked his dry lips. “Well, it _was_ red, swollen, and painful, but isn’t that- normal if you’re stabbed?” 

Seonghwa looked at Hongjoong for a moment to check if he was kidding, then huffed a laugh. “No, Hongjoong, that’s not normal. It doesn’t get _more_ painful and _more_ swollen and _more_ bruised as the days go on. If it does and you get a fever on top of that, it means there’s something wrong.”

Hongjoong stared. “Well, I didn’t know that.” 

“Clearly.” 

“How do _you_ know that?” 

Seonghwa then chuckled, actually _chuckled_. “Because I’ve been fighting zombies on my own for two years. I may have gotten a cut or two.” Hongjoong didn’t know what to answer to that, so he didn’t. “Who has been taking care of you?” 

“No one.” The lie came naturally when it served the purpose of protecting his friends. 

Seonghwa didn’t seem to believe it. “You have other scars, Hongjoong, someone took care of those and it was clearly not you.”

“Those could have been from before.” 

Seonghwa still had a hint of a smile on his lips. “And were they?” 

“No,” Hongjoong admitted. Seonghwa seemed to be choosing his next question, so Hongjoong moved faster. “Why did you spend the night here?” 

Seonghwa seemed to be taken aback. “I didn’t.” 

Hongjoong narrowed his eyes. “It looks like you did,” a smile grew on his lips, “were you _worried_ about me, hyung?” Seonghwa didn’t answer, glaring at Hongjoong like he had the first day, except that time he had a pink tint on his cheeks. Hongjoong didn’t miss it. “You were!” 

“No, I wasn’t,” Seonghwa argued. “I needed to be here to give you the antibiotics as soon as you woke up. I had to be here in case you turned too, I didn’t want the surprise.” 

Hongjoong then laughed. “Is that why you untied me? So it would be _harder_ for zombie me to attack you?” 

The blush deepened. “You were pulling in your sleep, your wrists were bruising.” 

“You were worried,” Hongjoong said, a wide smile stretching on his face. Seonghwa then got up, obviously going to leave. Hongjoong reached for him in a reflex, grabbing his hand. “No, sorry, don’t go.” 

Seonghwa looked down at Hongjoong, then at Hongjoong’s hand, holding his. He swallowed. “I need to- get you something to eat.” 

Hongjoong groaned, letting Seonghwa’s hand go in favor of covering his face. “No, I feel sick.”

“You need to eat something, Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong sighed dramatically. “Fine. Do you have steak?” 

Seonghwa huffed. “Sure, I called my butler and made him stock my freezer full of steak and champagne when I heard you were coming, Your Highness.”   
  
Hongjoong gasped. “Was that a joke? You know how to make those! Good for you, birdy.”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes. “Shut up,” he murmured.

Hongjoong’s smile lasted for long after Seonghwa left the room, disappearing only once a shiver ran through his body. Slowly, he sat down and reached for the blanket, covering his legs again.

His mind wandered as he waited for Seonghwa to come back, thinking about his friends, his found family. They probably thought he was dead, Mingi blaming himself for it. Hongjoong needed to get better so he could go back to them as soon as possible, go back home.

“No,” Seonghwa’s voice startled Hongjoong. “I didn’t spend the entire night putting cold towels on your head to break your fever so you could wrap yourself in a blanket and make yourself sick again.” 

Hongjoong held onto the blanket protectively when Seonghwa reached for it. “I’m freezing.”

Seonghwa shook his head, firm, final. “No. You’re already in sweats, you’ll run another fever like this.” 

Hongjoong was figuring out what bullshit argument he could try to use on Seonghwa, but the other moved fast, tearing the blanket from his weak hands. Hongjoong gasped. “Hyung! That’s not fair!”

Seonghwa looked satisfied. “Life isn’t fair.” 

Hongjoong sulked, pouting, and leaned back on the head of the bed, grabbing the cup of ramen Seonghwa offered. 

“Where did you find that many packets of ramen, anyway? That’s all you eat.” 

There was a brief moment of silence, Seonghwa thinking if he should answer Hongjoong or not. “There’s a supermarket down the road that was overrun by the undead when I moved to this building, so I cleared it and brought everything I could back here with me. Their noodle aisle was practically untouched.”

“You did all of that by yourself?” Seonghwa nodded. “There has never been anyone else?” 

“To help me? No,” Seonghwa answered honestly, because there hadn’t. All the people he’d found after had only tried to hurt him. 

“I’m sorry, hyung.” 

Seonghwa stared for a beat longer, then averted his eyes. “I’m going out to get you more meds, I ran out of antibiotics. I’ll lock up the building, but you shouldn’t leave the apartment, it’s safer up here.” 

“Alright.” 

“I should be back before nightfall.” 

Hongjoong wanted to say something, to thank Seonghwa, but the words didn’t seem to want to come out. “Take care of yourself.” 

Seonghwa nodded. “I always do.” 

\--

The first two pharmacies Seonghwa found didn’t have what he needed, so he had to keep driving further away from the base. 

When he saw what looked like a small supermarket, he parked his motorcycle. His gun was still on the holster on his hip, but he had a knife in his hand, something silent and that would get the job done just the same. 

Seonghwa looked around the corner and didn’t see anything, so he went to the door, slipping inside quietly. He stood still, trying to catch any noises, any sign of movement, but there was nothing, the building seemed empty. 

Seonghwa didn’t put his knife away, still on alert as he walked the aisles of the market, looking for the pharmacy section. 

He hopped over the counter as silent and stealthy as a cat, then approached the first shelf, which was mostly empty. Seonghwa still looked at the boxes, trying to spot any familiar names, glancing over his shoulder from time to time. When he found none, Seonghwa moved on to the next, and then the other after that, being thorough. 

When he finished the fourth shelf and still didn’t find what he was looking for he sighed in frustration, slamming the bottle back on the metal surface, turning around to go to the next. 

It all happened very fast, the undead appearing from behind the shelf attracted by the noise Seonghwa had made, him being caught by surprise and dropping his knife, then immediately tripping on something and turning his ankle, falling on the floor. 

The undead launched himself on top of Seonghwa, groaning and trying to bite any part of his body it could reach as Seonghwa could do nothing but hold him off with his bare hands. Seonghwa looked to his left and there it was, the knife, too far for him to grab. 

Just as he was about to risk letting one of his hands go to reach for his gun, something moved quickly on his left, then his knife was piercing through the undead’s head, killing it for a second and final time. 

Seonghwa pushed the body off of him with a grunt and went numb on the floor, his heart catching up and racing with the realization he’d almost died. 

When something moved, Seonghwa perked up again, watching an unfamiliar face get closer. 

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, I’m human,” the boy said, as if that made Seonghwa any less wary of him. “Did it get you? Are you okay?”

Seonghwa realized there was a bloody knife on the boy's hand… _his_ knife. The boy seemed to catch on to Seonghwa’s worry, pointing the knife away from him.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, then took a step back as if to further prove the point. 

Seonghwa got to his feet, then wiped his bloody hands on his pants. The boy was just staring, eyes round, worried and curious. 

“Thank you,” Seonghwa said, at last, nodding his head once.

The boy smiled, face bright and young. “Of course. The world is already fucked up enough as it is, we should help each other. Right?” 

Seonghwa didn’t know if spending most of the night awake had made him mellow, but he smiled back and answered, “Right.” 

The boy looked down at his hand. “Is this yours?” 

Seonghwa glanced at the knife. “Yes.” 

“It doesn’t look like you would be comfortable with me handing it to you.” 

Seonghwa huffed. “Just leave it at the counter, kid.” 

“Jongho, what’s taking you so-” 

The man walking in stopped at the door, glancing between the boy, _Jongho_ , and the stranger, taking Seonghwa in with judging eyes, assessing him. He was much taller than Jongho, everything about him harder, less soft, and more dangerous. 

Fear, Seonghwa realized, this guy was afraid of Seonghwa being close to Jongho.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked in his deep voice, confrontational from the start. Seonghwa didn’t like that he seemed to be outnumbered, glancing at his knife again. The guy seemed to realize that, because something in his gaze shifted. “Don’t even think about it. Step away from him.” 

“What makes you think I’ll take orders from you?” Seonghwa asked, voice not as deep but just as threatening. 

“Hey, no.” Jongho took a step forward, putting himself between the two, looking at his friend. “Min, _stop_. I walked in on this guy fighting a walker and helped him kill it. He didn't try to hurt me, I was just trying to help him. There is no need for any of this. We should go, come on.” 

The guy nodded, glaring at Seonghwa as he raised his arm toward Jongho, posture relaxing once he slid under it. He tightened his arm around Jongho’s shoulder and guided him out through the back door. 

Once they were out of sight, Seonghwa let out a relieved breath, placing a hand over his chest to feel his racing heart. 

As he looked at the mess around him he noticed something. When the undead had come out from behind the shelf to get him, it had knocked over a single small plastic bottle. Seonghwa reached for it and looked closer, getting confirmation it was exactly the medication he needed. 

It was like luck was working in his favor. 

Seonghwa didn’t need to be there any longer, so he threw the bottle into his bag, grabbed his knife, and went toward the door. 

He heard voices as soon as he stepped out. 

“Hey, hey, stop fighting! What is going on?” a third voice asked. 

When Seonghwa looked he saw the same two guys, plus another one, who was jumping between them to avoid some sort of fight, his back turned to Seonghwa.

“He,” Jongho pointed at the tall guy, “almost got us into a fight with a stranger over nothing! I had just helped the guy kill a walker and Min came in with his chest all puffed, being rude!” 

“I wasn’t rude!” 

“Yes, you were!” 

“The guy had a gun, Jongho!” 

“Which he didn’t even reach for! We were having a conversation, he was in shock!”

The new guy just looked between them, hair bouncing back and forth, then sighed. “This is going nowhere, let’s go home.” 

“No!” Jongho said, then looked at the tall guy, “You can’t go on like this, you need to talk to us.” 

“What is there to say?” the tall one asked, voice getting higher. It seemed like he was about to explode. “What, Jongho? That I can’t sleep thinking about what I did? That it should have been me and not him? That our group is falling apart now he’s gone and it’s _my_ fault? That I know you all will resent me forever and I’ll end up alone?”

“That’s not true,” the other guy said, voice growing soft. Somewhere on the back of his mind, Seonghwa thought he’d heard that voice before. “Min, that’s not true.” 

“But it _is_ , Woo! You probably hate me- _fuck_ , I hate myself too,” the tall guy sobbed, “But I’m selfish, I can only think about how s-scared I am of losing the rest of you. I acted like that in there b-because the thought of you getting hurt is terrifying.” His shoulders shook as he cried, tears streaming down his face. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” 

Jongho stepped closer. “It’s not your fault, Min.”

“It is.” 

“It’s _not_ ,” the other one added.

Seonghwa turned away when they embraced each other, feeling he was witnessing a moment that didn’t have anything to do with him.

If only he knew how wrong he was.

\--

When Seonghwa got home, the first thing he noticed was there was no light coming from the bedroom. It had become a habit the last few days for that room to be the first one he would look into, checking how Hongjoong was doing. 

Seonghwa didn’t know why his heart skipped a beat when he walked into it and realized it was empty. 

Of course, Hongjoong had left the first chance he got, Seonghwa was stupid, why would he have stayed? Hongjoong had probably stolen one of his motorcycles and ran off. 

Seonghwa didn’t care, it was _fine_ , the reason his mouth tasted so bitter was that now someone knew his location. It wasn’t that he felt bad that he was alone again, he hadn’t   
gotten used to having company again, not at all.

Seonghwa ignored the way his chest ached and turned around, throwing his weapons on the table so he could clean them later. 

That’s when he noticed a soft light coming from the spare bedroom, the one the previous owner of the apartment used as an office. 

Hongjoong was on the couch, a lit candle on the desk beside him as he paged through a book. He didn’t seem to notice Seonghwa at the door yet, too immersed in what he was reading, face relaxed. 

Seonghwa was glad to see Hongjoong like that, awake, looking less tired and sick, nothing like he’d been during the night, sweaty and groaning and making Seonghwa feel unbearably useless. 

Seonghwa knocked on the door softly but still made Hongjoong jump, dropping the book on his lap. 

“Ah! You scared the shit out of me!” Hongjoong said once he saw Seonghwa. “Who sneaks up on other people during the zombie apocalypse? Huh? That’s an asshole move! Why are you laughing?!” 

Seonghwa realized that he was, covering his mouth with his hand. “Sorry, your face was funny.” 

“Well, I can’t see _your_ face since you’re in the shadows. Creep. Almost gave me a heart attack,” Hongjoong murmured, pouting. Seonghwa’s smile got even wider. 

“Why are you here, Hongjoong?” 

“Got bored of the bedroom and since I’m a free elf now,” he shook his wrists, smug smile on his lips, “I decided to look around. I hadn’t seen a copy of Harry Potter since before, so I decided to read my favorite parts again.” 

“I don’t like Harry Potter that much, honestly.” 

Hongjoong gasped. “That’s like saying you don’t like Star Wars!” 

Seonghwa chuckled. “Star Wars I like. Grew up watching it.” He would never forget that one time when he was 17 when he took lightsaber fighting lessons with Yeosang. 

Hongjoong huffed. “That’s the least you could do. Who doesn’t like Harry Potter,” he murmured under his breath. 

Seonghwa rolled his eyes, sitting by Hongjoong on the sofa and handing him the small bottle. “Here are the meds.” 

“Were they hard to find?” 

Seonghwa leaned back, getting comfortable. “Not really, just had to stop by a lot of places,” he said, not really feeling the need to mention the small setback at the end. 

Hongjoong hummed in understanding, then chewed on his bottom lip nervously. After a few moments of silence, he poked his index finger on Seonghwa’s arm. “Thank you.” 

Seonghwa felt something inside him _melt_. Maybe it was Hongjoong’s pout, or his shy tone or that fact his finger was so small it almost disappeared into the fabric of Seonghwa’s shirt, he couldn’t know, but there was this urge to giggle like a schoolboy.

“It was no problem.” Not even Seonghwa himself expected to speak it so softly. “Take one now, another early in the morning.”

Hongjoong nodded and did, sipping on the water he’d brought with him. There was silence then, and Hongjoong just chewed on his bottom lip some more. “Where have you been sleeping?” 

Seonghwa tipped his head at the sudden change of subject. “What do you mean?” 

“I looked around the apartment, there isn’t another bed.”

“Oh. I’ve been sleeping here.” He patted the back of the couch. 

“You should sleep on your bed tonight, let me sleep here.” 

“No.” 

Hongjoong rolled his eyes. “Always so final, Dark Lord.” Seonghwa smiled and shook his head, Hongjoong mirroring it. “He smiles! He has teeth,” he said dramatically, now he’d finally be able to see Seonghwa smile in the light, even if dim candlelight.

“You’re pretty annoying, did you know that?”

“So my friends have told me.” 

Seonghwa stopped for a brief moment, wondering if it was okay to ask more now. He was curious, so he just did it anyway. “You have a group, don’t you?” 

Hongjoong stared at Seonghwa for a moment. He had always been good at reading people, knowing who to keep around and who to let go… he was slowly finding out Seonghwa was someone he didn’t want to let go from. 

“I do.” 

Seonghwa nodded, not surprised in the slightest. “How long have you been together?” 

“I knew Yunho from before,” Hongjoong said and Seonghwa recognized one of the names Hongjoong called in his sleep. “He and I shared a place close to uni. His boyfriend, Mingi, was always around too.” _Mingi_. “The three of us were together from day one.” 

“So it’s just the three of you?” 

Hongjoong shook his head no. “About a year in we met another group, four boys around our age, and we became seven.”

“Oh. Alright.” 

There was one question Seonghwa really wanted to ask, but he was afraid Hongjoong would misunderstand him… and also, he _did_ say the Mingi guy dated Yunho. But that was before. Maybe Mingi dated him now, that’s why Hongjoong dreams about him so often. 

“And you?” Hongjoong’s question brought Seonghwa back from his daydreaming. 

“What about me?” 

Hongjoong huffed, almost endeared. “You’ve been alone all this time?” Seonghwa nodded. “Why?”

Seonghwa felt his heart race, anxiety bubbling up again, telling him to lie, to protect himself… but how could he when Hongjoong looked at him like that? 

“I met people right at the start that tried to hurt me, so I chose to be alone after that.”

“What happened?”

 _Lie_ , Seonghwa's mind told him, begged him. 

He couldn't. “We ran into each other at a supermarket. I was terrified, alone, so hungry. This woman approached me and my gut told me to run, but she offered me food, shelter, made promises of safety, so I let my guard down.” Hongjoong didn’t like where that story was going, even if he could see Seonghwa in front of him, safe. “I was stupid and naive, but I didn’t know better then. I went back with them to their camp and on the first night I woke up with my head pounding, tied up, lying on the ground. I heard them- discussing what they were going to do to me.” Seonghwa was looking at his own hands. “I managed to escape, but I never let anyone get close to me since.” 

“I’m so sorry that happened to you,” Hongjoong said and unexpectedly, Seonghwa felt a hand coming to wrap around his. Even more unexpected was the fact Seonghwa welcomed it, finding it extremely comforting. “I’m sorry you’ve been alone since the start too. I’m sorry you lost so much.” 

Seonghwa dropped his head lower, feeling something tighten on his chest. It had been a while since he’d thought about that, even longer since he’d let any of it bother him.

He missed the Seonghwa from before too much to allow himself mourning for his loss.

He still remembered him, though. The Seonghwa who cried at weddings, and was happiest when he was with his friends, and had dreams of making a difference in the world. The Seonghwa who loved to help other people, Seonghwa who wasn’t _afraid_ of them. 

Hongjoong didn’t let himself overthink as he leaned closer and pulled Seonghwa into a hug. It seemed like he needed one.

At first, Seonghwa stiffened, but after a short moment, Hongjoong felt Seonghwa’s body relax and gentle arms wrap around him too, Seonghwa’s head coming to rest on the curve of his neck.

They stayed like that for a while, in silence, not because they didn't know what to say, but because there was no need to say anything.

Somewhere along that long hug Hongjoong figured he was not willing to let Seonghwa go.

\--

Hongjoong was affectionate with his friends. San would throw his arms around him whenever he got the chance (as would Wooyoung) but there were particular things Hongjoong had forgotten what felt like after so long. Like receiving massages, or being kissed, or having someone play with your hair.

Maybe that’s why he was dreaming someone was running their fingers through his hair, because he’d missed it. Hongjoong hummed and buried his face on the soft surface he was lying against, leg hiking up higher on whatever it was that fit so nicely around him. He was _so_ comfortable.

He fell deep into sleep again, but eventually, consciousness started to trick back in slowly, the sunlight awakening his senses. 

Something brushed on his cheek, feather-light, then on his jaw and the bridge of his nose. Hongjoong was ticklish, so he scrunched it up, itching. Then his soft surface was moving and the warmth was leaving, pulling away.

Hongjoong was upset, opening his eyes to check what was happening. He was lying on the couch and Seonghwa was sitting next to him, on the edge, back turned to him. 

It took only a second for Hongjoong to understand Seonghwa had been lying with him. 

It was a relief he couldn’t see Seonghwa’s face, because he had no idea of what to say. 

Seonghwa cleared his throat. “Time for your meds, I’m getting some water,” he said in a hoarse voice, broken from sleep. 

As soon as Seonghwa was out the door Hongjoong covered his face with his hands, pretty sure his entire face was burning with embarrassment. 

They had _slept_ together?

Hongjoong remembered him pulling in Seonghwa for a hug that went on for a long time, but he definitely didn’t remember _falling asleep_ in his arms. But he had. He’d slept the entire night in Seonghwa’s arms. He and Seonghwa had slept together. And he still didn’t even know his name.

“Hongjoong?” 

Hongjoong froze when he heard the voice, then he lowered his hands so he could see. Seonghwa was standing there, a glass of water in hand, face puffy and hair messy, as stunning as ever. 

Hongjoong wanted to cry. 

“The water. For the pills,” Seonghwa murmured the explanation when Hongjoong just stared. 

Hongjoong sat down, biting his lip when he felt the pain shoot up from his stomach, but was relieved when he noticed it was considerably better than the day before. 

“How are you feeling?” 

Hongjoong took a sip through the pretty pink straw first to wet his lips. “Good.” The pretty straw slipped from his lips when Seonghwa leaned down and pressed a hand to Hongjoong’s forehead. 

“No more fever.” 

_Really? Cause I feel like I’m burning up._ “That’s- good.” 

Seonghwa hummed, removing his hand and standing straight again. “Yeah, means the meds are doing their job.” 

They were left looking at each other then and Seonghwa was too tall, too handsome, it made Hongjoong uneasy. Like he wanted to fight him. Or kiss him. 

“I’m hungry,” Hongjoong announced to avoid the train of thought. “Go get me food, birdy. Not ramen.” 

Seonghwa raised a brow. “You give orders now?” 

“It comes naturally to me, I’m used to it.” Seonghwa offered him a confused look. “I’m the leader of my group.” 

That made Seonghwa smile and _goodness_ if it didn’t look even more beautiful under the daylight. “Really?” 

“Why the smile?” 

Seonghwa clamped his mouth shut. “Nothing,” he said, shrugging, then turned around and left. 

Hongjoong huffed, offended. “Hyung? Were you questioning my skills?” Silence. “Birdy?” Then laughter. “You’re so mean, Dark Lord.” 

The laughter died naturally, and Hongjoong wasn’t even expecting an answer anymore when he heard a voice saying from the kitchen, “Seonghwa.” 

Hongjoong frowned, genuinely confused. “What?” 

“My name. Seonghwa.” 

Hongjoong didn’t know what crazy gymnastics his heart did, but it was clearly excited with the news. “That’s pretty. Seonghwa.”

It was weird, Hongjoong didn’t know anyone called Seonghwa, but somehow he felt like he’d heard stories with that name before… he could think about it after, when he managed to do anything other than smile that wide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [celeste](https://twitter.com/minginacho), the one who proofread this mess and helped me.... on top of offering amazing support and encouragement. thanks....... i- i- ily 🤢
> 
> You can also find me [here](https://twitter.com/unihongs), come say hi :) 
> 
> Leave me a comment and a kudos if you liked it, I appreciate it! 
> 
> See you soon ♡


	2. Just keep breathing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He turned around, walking back into the study room. “I’ll leave at first light, if you’re awake then, you can come with me,” Hongjoong said before shutting the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a lil while longer than what I thought it would... me and my beta are both streaming and voting like crazy, so that's why!
> 
> Hope you enjoy this one!

Seonghwa spent all day finding things to do that involved being out of the apartment. He went to the floor below to count weapons and food again, he checked the fence three times, he cleaned his bike even if it wasn’t that dirty yet. Any activity he could find that didn't involve him staying inside and hearing Hongjoong call him all sorts of cute variations of his name. It was driving Seonghwa crazy how he felt his ears warm and his cheeks raise into a smile every time.

It was baffling how after 2 years of complete solitude it took Hongjoong less than a week to make Seonghwa go back to what he was before: soft-hearted, shy, and easily attached. 

There were still warning signs ringing in Seonghwa’s brain warning him that letting someone get close that fast was a bad idea - but then Seonghwa would look at Hongjoong, hear his voice, see his smile, and the worries were all but forgotten. 

And that was dangerous.

“Hwa-hyung!” 

Seonghwa frowned and looked up. As expected, there Hongjoong was on the window of the third floor, watching him wash his bike with a smug smile. 

“Not your hyung!” Seonghwa screamed back, a stupid smile already forming on his lips. 

“Come talk to me, I’m bored!” 

“I’m busy!” 

A brief pause. “Should I come down, then?” 

Seonghwa stood straight and looked up. Hongjoong still had that smug smile on, knowing he had won the argument. Seonghwa huffed. “Fine, Hongjoong, fine.” 

Hongjoong still stood by the window when Seonghwa got to the apartment and, as it usually happened, broke the silence almost immediately. 

“I’m curious.”

“About what?” 

“Where you’re from.” 

Seonghwa wiped the sweat off his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. “Jinju.” 

“I knew you were from the south!” 

Seonghwa huffed a small laugh. “That’s not hard to figure out, I sound southern.” 

“Yes, you do.” 

Seonghwa didn't know what to do with Hongjoong’s smug smile or the tone of his voice, so he just turned around and went to grab some water, feeling hot from all running around he had been doing. He noticed Hongjoong staring. 

“My time to ask something. You said you went to university,” Hongjoong nodded, “what were you studying?”

“I was studying composition at K-Arts.” 

Seonghwa couldn’t even help his smile, because Hongjoong had been a music student and that was just about the cutest thing he’d ever heard. In a corner of his mind, he heard a little voice that said he would probably find it cute even if Hongjoong had been studying engineering. “That’s really nice.” 

Hongjoong hummed. “It was, I was going to live off music. I can't imagine any life better than that.”

“Were you any good?” Seonghwa asked, genuinely interested. 

Hongjoong scoffed. “Please, Seonghwa, do I look like I'm bad at anything I do? Of course, I was.”

Seonghwa snorted, shaking his head. “Top of your class?”

Hongjoong narrowed his eyes. “Top 3.”

Seonghwa felt something inside urging him to keep teasing, but if Hongjoong's pout got any bigger it would be humanly impossible to ignore it. “That's impressive. Not surprising at all, though.”

“What is?”

“That you were a big city arts boy. You look like you grew up in the best neighborhood of Seoul in a rich family that encouraged you how to play a lot of instruments from a young age.”

“That's right! How did you know?” Hongjoong laughed, bubbly and pleasant, covering his smile with a hand. Seonghwa wished he wouldn't, Hongjoong has a pretty smile. “I can play the guitar, violin, bass… if it has strings, you name it, I can probably play it.”

“Harp?” Seonghwa couldn't resist teasing.

Hongjoong shrugged. “Never tried it, but it doesn't look that hard. If we find one, I'll learn it and play something for you.”

Seonghwa's mind supplied an image of an empty theatre, Hongjoong dressed in all white in the center of the stage, playing a song just for him. He quickly snapped out of it. 

“You're too cocky.”

Hongjoong smirked. “It's called confidence, birdy. Still, my aptitude for music hasn’t exactly been helpful with the whole apocalypse thing, the dead don’t care about music. Or dance, for that matter, Yunho and Mingi tried that once.” 

Seonghwa snorted. “Dancing to the undead?” 

“Yep.” 

Seonghwa laughed. “I’m so shocked a dance battle didn’t magically fix the end of the world.” 

“Right? So were they.”

“The dead don’t care about economics either if it’s any consolation.” 

“Was that what you studied in college?” 

Seonghwa nodded. “Yes. I was in my second year.” 

“Did you like it?” 

“Not really,” Seonghwa admitted.

“Well, so let’s look on the bright side, the apocalypse saved you from a boring desk job.”

Seonghwa huffed softly. “Guess you’re right.”

“You never thought about changing courses?”

“The paperwork would be a mess. My best friend was always trying to convince me to just quit and enroll again with another major, though.” 

It was the first time Seonghwa had mentioned anyone from his past life to Hongjoong and it made something inside him swell with pride that Seonghwa felt comfortable enough to share. “If we knew each other back then, I would have probably sided with your best friend. No point in doing something that doesn’t make you happy.” 

Seonghwa smiled, faintly. “You sound just like him.” 

There was no need to ask if this friend had made it or not, there was enough hurt in Seonghwa’s voice. “He sounds like a great guy.” 

“He was,” Seonghwa murmured, thinking back to bittersweet memories of Yeosang. “We always had each other’s backs since we were little. I beat up the kids that messed with him and he used his angel face to tell the teachers he had seen my bullies cheating on their tests when they actually didn’t.”

Hongjoong snorted. “So he was a child actor.” 

“Oh, he still did stuff like that after we grew up too. He just had this face... he’s so _pretty_ , looks so pure, you _want_ to believe he’s not lying, that’s why he was so good.” Seonghwa laughed. “He eventually used his power for good, though, when we grew up. He was very calm and collected, it was nice to balance how all over the place I always was.”

“My group has someone that’s exactly like that,” Hongjoong said with a smile. He had seen Wooyoung fall for his cute pout more than once. “He’s like the voice of reason, above us mere mortals. Keeps us from being at each other’s throats all the time over stupid stuff.”

“Exactly.” Seonghwa smiled, trying to ignore the pinch he always felt in his heart after thinking about Yeosang and focusing on how happy Hongjoong seemed every time he mentioned his group. 

“You’ll like him,” Hongjoong said suddenly. 

It was at that moment Seonghwa realized he’d been living in a bubble - because Hongjoong had just popped it. 

Seonghwa had been so focused on adapting to Hongjoong coming into the picture so suddenly - and keeping up with the change he brought with him - Seonghwa failed to take Hongjoong’s side into consideration.

Hongjoong had a group. He had a _life_ he wanted to go back to. He wasn’t staying there, he had plans to leave.

And he wanted Seonghwa to follow. 

The air outside the bubble was thick, heavy, because Seonghwa was suddenly feeling suffocated. He couldn’t, he just _couldn’t_ leave where it was safe and certain, he couldn’t leave where he knew he wouldn’t be betrayed, he couldn’t just trust people again as he did before everything.

He couldn’t, he didn’t remember how. 

Seonghwa excused himself with the first thing that popped into his head and ran into the bathroom, closing the door behind him and leaning into the sink. He stood still for a few moments, staring at his reflection in the mirror. 

Seonghwa wasn’t ready for more change. Hongjoong had already been more than he felt that he could take, but now he was suggesting Seonghwa getting used to _more_? 

He couldn't.

He could never fit into a group, he was too broken for that. 

Seonghwa sank to the floor when the reality that he was going to lose Hongjoong sank in. 

He would laugh if he didn’t want to cry so bad, realizing at that moment that maybe the reason he had fought so hard to keep anyone from getting close was to avoid this: the pain from when they left. 

If there was a thing Seonghwa learned was that they always left.

\--

Three more days passed. 

Hongjoong was feeling good, no fever, less pain, more energy. He would be able to travel soon. Everything was well.

Except that it wasn’t, because Seonghwa was acting weird. 

Hongjoong couldn’t say he knew Seonghwa inside and out (it had only been a little over a week since they’d met) but in the meantime Seonghwa had literally saved his life twice.

It was fair that Hongjoong felt he knew Seonghwa a little. 

Seonghwa pretended to be an asshole, but during the week Hongjoong had caught a glimpse of the good-hearted and gentle nature the other seemed to have buried inside. They had shared a few things about their before-lives, Seonghwa had nurtured him back to health, they had _fallen asleep in each other’s arms…_ only for Seonghwa to go back to the cold persona he had had at their very first interaction.

Hongjoong didn’t know what he’d done, but he was certain he had done something. Seonghwa had the strangest look in his eyes whenever he looked at him. 

Hongjoong had said something that upset Seonghwa, but he had no idea what.

Hongjoong grunted and turned on the bed, closing his eyes.

_“Focus,” Hongjoong said to Mingi with a calm voice, even if his heart was pounding hard and fast. “We got this.”_

_Hongjoong functioned on automatic, being as efficient as the new world had taught him to be - knife sliding in and out of the undead and making them pile at his feet. He felt a hand on his arm and before his instincts kicked it he recognized the warmth, the human mark._

_“Hyung, there are too many, we’re not going through. Let’s go around,” Mingi said, pulling him from the undead who were launching themselves on top of them, trying desperately to bite and tear into their flesh._

_Mingi wanted to move in the opposite direction where San and Yunho were, standing on top of a car behind the hoard, hands on their heads in desperation, not knowing what to do. Hongjoong had told them to stay still and not attract attention to themselves, that he and Mingi would make their way to them._

_Hongjoong never liked dividing their group when they were out, he knew they were stronger together, but Mingi had a point that time._

_“Let’s go around,” Hongjoong agreed, letting Mingi pull them in the opposite direction from the hoard and consequently, San and Yunho._

_They ran together, glancing back to check the distance between them and the hoard. They would get away, it would be fine._

_That's what Hongjoong thought before they turned a corner and ran into another hoard._

_Mingi screamed in desperation when Hongjoong got surrounded and started swinging his knife as fast as he could, trying to get to Hongjoong, to stand by his side._

_That's when the knife got Hongjoong._

Hongjoong sighed. It would do him no good to just roll around in bed like that.

He held his stomach as he got up, biting back a whimper as he waited for the pain to dull. When he could, he went to the living room and sat by the window. 

He closed his eyes again and went back to the scene. 

That has been one of the scariest moments of Hongjoong's life, but he hoped that if he went back to it in his head enough times he might remember what happened to Mingi. Hongjoong had lost sight of him in the chaos, and not being sure his friend got away was driving him insane. 

_San's voice screaming his name. The moan of the dead. The pain in his stomach. Mingi crying, begging for his forgiveness. The nauseating feeling of the blood drenching his shirt. Him screaming Mingi to fight and live._

_But had he?_

_Think, think._

“Hongjoong.” Seonghwa’s voice was low, but still made Hongjoong jump.

He opened his eyes and searched for him. 

“Are you guarding?” Seonghwa came closer, glancing outside the window. “This place is locked tight, you don’t have to stay up to guard.”

Seonghwa looked at his face and Hongjoong knew he had noticed something there, because his expression changed. Seonghwa took him from head to toe.

“You’re shaking. Are you feeling sick?” Seonghwa stepped even closer, under the moonlight with Hongjoong. He then sighed, an annoyed sound. “You’re sweating. Do you have a fever again? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m not sick,” Hongjoong said, tone defensive, maybe a bit snappy. He didn't like the way Seonghwa was talking to him lately. “I’m anxious. I'm worried about my family.”

Seonghwa just looked, a mix of emotions Hongjoong couldn’t make out in his eyes, before eventually nodding once and turning around. 

Hongjoong followed Seonghwa into the study room before he even thought about it, not knocking or announcing himself, knowing Seonghwa heard him come in.

“There is something I want to talk about with you.”

“Is there something you need?” Seonghwa asked, not even looking at Hongjoong. 

“Yes. I need you to be honest with me.” 

“About what?”

“About why you’re acting weird.”

Better to rip the bandaid and get it over with. 

Seonghwa frowned and Hongjoong wanted to punch him for pretending to be confused. “What do you mean, acting weird?” 

“Like… cold, distant. Did I say something that upset you?” 

Inexplicably, Seonghwa’s expression became even harder. “That’s how I am, Hongjoong.” 

“That’s not what it is, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong snapped. “Don’t try to pull that gaslighting shit on me, that’s not gonna work. I know what I’ve been seeing.”

“And what is that, exactly?” It was even more enerving that Seonghwa seemed calm when Hongjoong felt his entire body shaking.

“You were opening up to me, we were gaining trust in each other and it suddenly just- stopped. Everything just stopped.”

“You're mistaken, I-”

Hongjoong interrupted. “When we met you were cold and suspicious, fair enough, we didn’t know each other and the world has gone to shit, but then we _did_ get to know each other and-”

“You’re mistaken,” Seonghwa cut off, tone even. “It’s been a week, Hongjoong, we don’t know each other. We’re not friends, we’re not anything.”

Hongjoong felt a fire burn in his chest. “Is that so?” 

“You played the guilt card on me and it worked, Hongjoong. I helped you because I knew I would feel guilty if you died. You’ve been here because of my guilt.” Seonghwa didn't even know what he was saying, running on fear and panic and vomiting the words that he thought would help him keep safe. 

Hongjoong couldn’t help but feel hurt, the words making his chest hurt. “That’s all it was? Guilt?” 

Seonghwa wouldn’t dare look at Hongjoong. “Of course. What else?” 

“So you’re telling me you didn’t do anything you didn’t absolutely have to,” Hongjoong said, irony tainting his tone. “You didn’t trust me for even a second. You kept me breathing and that was it.”

Seonghwa paused, ignoring the buzz in his ears. “I kept you breathing because I wouldn't be able to live with the guilt if I let you die.” 

Hongjoong ran his hands through his hair. “I'm sorry to burst your bubble, Seonghwa, but your actions don't match your words. It sure felt personal a few nights back, after you came back from the meds run.”

Seonghwa avoided Hongjoong's eyes, embarrassed. He felt exposed. He was terrified. 

“That has nothing to do with this.”

Hongjoong scoffed. “Oh, it doesn't, okay.”

Seonghwa knew he wasn't making sense, but how could he just say what he truly felt when he was that scared?

He might be too broken to be able to join a group, he was made to be alone.

Hongjoong wouldn't understand. 

“I'm not your charity case, Hongjoong. I don't need to be saved by you, I was fine before you came here.” 

The word surprised Hongjoong. “Charity case? What the hell are you talking about?”

“You feel like you owe me something now that I saved your life, that you have some sort of debt with me. You think you're so much better than me, but I made it alone all these years without any of your help.”

“I never said any of that!” Hongjoong's voice got higher. “You're putting words into my mouth! Gosh, you're so- so goddamn difficult, why are you saying all of that?” _I don't know._ “Is that your way of kicking me out?”

“I'm not kicking you out, Hongjoong-”

“So if I turned around now and left and you never saw me again, you would be okay with that?”

“Yes,” Seonghwa said, an automatic response, something he’d been telling himself the last few days. Hongjoong would leave and he had to survive that.

It still hurt to say it, to think it. Seonghwa didn't want Hongjoong to leave.

Hongjoong looked into Seonghwa's eyes, trying to read him, to understand if his words were true. 

He reached his conclusion. 

“Fine, then I’m leaving.” 

Hongjoong turned around. It took a moment for Seonghwa to catch up, but then he was chasing Hongjoong, grabbing his arm. 

“ _Now,_ Hongjoong?” 

Hongjoong pulled his arm from Seonghwa’s grasp a little more roughly than necessary, stumbling back a few steps, still not at his best form. “Yes, now.” 

“It’s the middle of the night,” Seonghwa stated the obvious. 

“I’m not staying here anymore.” 

Seonghwa started to panic, thinking about what would happen if Hongjoong ran into one, or even more, undead. He could barely stand straight, let alone fight for his life.

“Wait until morning, then I’ll take you myself.” 

“I can take care of myself. I don’t need you.” 

That’s what Seonghwa wanted to hear, some sadistic part of him feeling satisfied. Hongjoong didn’t need him, he didn’t need Hongjoong. He would leave and Seonghwa would be fine. 

“I know, but let me.” 

Hongjoong stared, silence stretching between them, then he sighed, rubbing his eyes. 

He turned around, walking back into the study room. “I’ll leave at first light, if you’re awake then, you can come with me,” Hongjoong said before shutting the door.

\--

Seonghwa didn’t sleep, and if he was being honest, he hadn’t even tried.

There was a bitter taste on his tongue, an annoying ache on his chest, and a voice in the back of his head saying he was being an asshole. 

The voice was Yeosang’s, just as Seonghwa remembered it. 

The real Yeosang had always been straight to the point with him. He would tell Seonghwa if he was making a mistake, if he was acting like an idiot, if his insecurities were getting the best of him. 

Yeosang was the only person who knew just how afraid Seonghwa was of being hurt by other people, the only one who always called him out on it. 

But Yeosang was dead and that weak version of Seonghwa had died with him. This version was self-sufficient, was making it on its own, was strong, and could rely on his own judgment. 

And his judgment told Seonghwa the safest route was being alone even if a small part of him had started to crave something else. 

Someone else. 

“Are you coming?” Hongjoong asked, standing at the door in his own shredded, but clean clothes.

It didn’t look like Hongjoong had slept either. “Yes,” Seonghwa murmured, getting up immediately and reaching for his leather jacket.

When Seonghwa finished zipping it up, he noticed Hongjoong’s eyes on him. Seonghwa looked away, he couldn’t handle how much disappointment he saw in them. 

He grabbed his gun, the keys to one of his cars and led the way. 

Hongjoong struggled to make it to the bottom of the stairs, failing to stop small gasps, but Seonghwa bit his tongue and didn’t offer any help. He didn’t think Hongjoong would take it, anyway. 

The sun was just starting the rise when they reached the car, still in complete silence. Hongjoong reached out his hand for Seonghwa, who looked at it in confusion.

“The keys,” Hongjoong explained. 

“I should drive.” 

Hongjoong narrowed his eyes. “You don’t know where we’re going.” 

“So you tell me.” 

“No,” Hongjoong said simply, not firm but definitely final, palm still up and waiting. 

“Hongjoong, you still not better, you shouldn’t-” 

Hongjoong rolled his eyes and turned around, going for the fence. “I’m going on foot then. Goodbye, Seonghwa.” 

Something inside Seonghwa squeezed and twisted and burned at the word. 

_Goodbye._

“Alright, you can drive,” Seonghwa said, letting out a relieved breath when Hongjoong stopped.

Seonghwa expected a satisfied smirk, a teasing remark. What he got were Hongjoong’s tired eyes and his most impassive expression.

The drive was long and done in complete silence, none of them daring to break it even if their heads were tormented with unsaid words.

Hongjoong made the familiar way back home, trying to make himself excited about seeing his family again and feeling awful when he couldn’t, remembering Seonghwa’s words.

_We’re not anything._

Hongjoong had been an idiot thinking Seonghwa had actually gotten attached to him during the week. 

He swallowed all the bitterness and dryness back and kept driving.

The hours passed slowly but the ache on Hongjoong's chest didn't lessen, his head throbbing and eyes burning. He just wanted to be alone so he could cry.

Cry over Seonghwa's unfair words, over how he had deluded himself thinking there was something there when there obviously wasn't, over how even then he didn't want to let him go. 

How stupid of Hongjoong, wanting to cry because of a boy during the end of the world.

When Hongjoong entered the empty parking lot and stopped the car Seonghwa looked at him, about to ask if they had arrived when Hongjoong got out before he could. 

Seonghwa swallowed his pride and followed.

Seonghwa looked around, trying to see where Hongjoong could possibly be staying with a group of other six people in that seemingly abandoned and empty place. 

It was a huge parking lot to a pier, surrounded by abandoned cars, overgrown trees and the sea.

It was quiet, the only sound was of the seagulls and the distant waves. Seonghwa walked closer to the water, eager to see the sea again, it had been a while. 

Seonghwa was so distracted he didn’t notice someone coming closer until he felt the cool metal of a weapon pressing on the back of his neck. 

“You followed us back?” a voice Seonghwa recognized asked. He turned his head slightly and cursed, blood running cold. It was the stressed guy from the supermarket. _Min,_ his mind helpfully supplied. “Who the fuck are you? What do you want with us?” 

Another guy appeared from behind the cars, someone Seonghwa hadn’t seen before. He was just as tall as Min, if not slightly taller, face cute and unthreatening if he wasn’t also pointing a gun in Seonghwa’s direction.

He lifted his hands in a sign of surrender. “Listen, this is an awful coincidence. I’m not following you-” 

The press on his neck became stronger and Seonghwa stumbled forward. “Liar,” Min hissed.

“I’m not lying, I swear. I was just-” 

“Min, no! Stop!” 

As soon as Hongjoong screamed, Seonghwa watched a confusing series of events happen. First, the cute-yet-threatening guy’s face became confused, then his eyes found the owner of the voice and his jaw dropped, as did his gun from his hand. 

As soon as his gun hit the floor Seonghwa reached for it, but the guy didn’t react, he didn’t _care_ , too focused on Hongjoong. 

Seonghwa turned around just in time to see Min spotting Hongjoong for the first time too.

“Hongjoong-hyung,” Min whispered, in awe, as if he was seeing a mirage. “You’re not dead.” 

Hongjoong chuckled, smiling wider than Seonghwa had ever seen. “No, Mingi, I’m not dead.”

_Mingi. Min._

“Oh my god,” Seonghwa said, things starting to click into his head. 

The guy that had been behind Seonghwa finally seemed to have grasped reality, sprinting toward Hongjoong and clashing against him, pulling him into a hug. “Hyung, you’re real,” he said in a breath. “You’re alive. But- Mingi said- he said-” 

Hongjoong’s arms came around the other’s much larger body, patting his back. “Not dead, Yunho.”

_Yunho. Dated Mingi. Attempted dancing to the dead to end the apocalypse._

Seonghwa noticed Mingi was crying, body starting to shake as he buried his face in his hands. Hongjoong’s face went incredibly soft, pushing Yunho away gently so he could go to him. 

“It’s okay, Mingi,” Hongjoong said, patting his shoulder. 

“I t-thought you were d-dead, hyung. I thought I’d killed y-you.” 

Seonghwa frowned, still standing in the same spot, completely forgotten by the other three. “You didn’t. I’m here.” 

“I’m s-sorry,” Mingi said, still sobbing into his hands. Hongjoong wrapped his arms around him and even though Mingi was much taller, he looked small in Hongjoong's arms.

“It’s okay,” Hongjoong repeated, patting his back gently. “It’s alright.” 

Mingi raised his head, wet eyes looking at Hongjoong. “I was so s-sure I had seen blood- I thought- I thought the blade had gotten you.” 

Hongjoong huffed. “It did.” 

“It d-did?” Mingi asked, clearly confused. Hongjoong nodded, seemingly amused and endeared. “So how are y-you here? The horde- how did you m-make it out alive?”

“I had help.” Hongjoong’s face only hardened slightly as he motioned his chin to Seonghwa. “He took care of me during the week, gave me meds, food. Made sure I kept breathing.” It was an innocent enough sentence to the other two, but Seonghwa got the bitter reference. 

Mingi turned to Seonghwa, remembering he was even there. His eyes widened, then he started crying again. 

The next thing Seonghwa knew there were heavy arms around his shoulders. “Thank you. Thank you so much,” he said, apparently forgetting all about their previous encounters. 

All Mingi seemed to care about was that Seonghwa had helped someone he loved.

Seonghwa didn’t know what to do, if he was supposed to hug back or say something, so he just stood perfectly still, letting Mingi cry into his shoulder. Mingi pulled away after a moment and his face looked completely different from what Seonghwa remembered, much more vulnerable, nothing of the hardness he’d seen in his eyes on the first encounter. 

Seonghwa was even more surprised when Mingi stepped back and kneeled to the ground in a deep bow, holding the position for a few seconds to show his gratitude. Seonghwa didn't think people still held onto old-world customs like that.

Yunho had his arm on Hongjoong’s shoulder, comfortable, watching with lazy smiles as if Mingi was the most precious treasure they had in their lives. 

_A family,_ Seonghwa thought bitterly, something hot burning on his chest. 

“Hongjoong-hyung means the world to us, thank you for bringing him home,” Mingi said once he was on his feet.

Seonghwa felt an awful mix of feelings, like he didn't deserve that gratitude, like he was a fraud. He cleared his throat and bowed his head back, forcing a smile, before looking at Yunho and offering his gun back to him. 

“Here,” Seonghwa said. Yunho smiled and his face transformed. 

“Sorry about pointing that at you,” Yunho said. “Mingi spotted you across the parking lot and said he’d met you before during a supply run. He thought you had followed him, Jongho and Wooyoung here.” 

Seonghwa shook his head. “I didn’t follow anyone anywhere.” 

“Wait. You’ve seen each other before?” Hongjoong asked, head tipped to the right in confusion. 

Seonghwa nodded, looking at him. “The morning after your fever peaked and I went out to get you more antibiotics. I got attacked by an undead-”

“You didn’t tell me that,” Hongjoong interrupted, frowning. “You told me everything had been fine.” 

“It _was_ fine-” 

“No, it wasn’t!” 

Mingi and Yunho’s eyes bounced back and forth between the other two. Seonghwa sighed, then patiently told Hongjoong, “Some kid killed the zombie for me, Jongho, I think. Then Mingi walked in and misunderstood. I think he thought I was trying to hurt Jongho, got defensive, things got a little heated before the kid dragged Mingi outside.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this? You ran into my people and didn’t tell me?” Hongjoong sounded hurt. 

“You think I would hide something like this from you?” Seonghwa asked, offended. Yunho and Mingi’s eyes went to him. “I couldn’t have known, Hongjoong, at that point you had only mentioned a Mingi, a Yunho, and a San. Jongho referred to Mingi as Min, how was I supposed to know that was a nickname to _your_ Mingi?” 

Hongjoong didn’t seem any less upset. “Maybe if you didn’t keep everything to yourself things would have cleared up much faster, now, wouldn’t they?” Mingi and Yunho’s eyes went to Hongjoong, then they glanced at each other. 

Seonghwa huffed. “That’s rich coming from you. You lied about pretty much everything from the moment you woke up.” 

“You had me tied to your fucking bed, Seonghwa!”

Yunho and Mingi’s eyes widened, then they both frowned. They looked at Seonghwa, who didn’t even notice, only focusing on Hongjoong, who was stomping his way until they were face to face.

“Someone I’ve never seen before comes knocking on my door, bleeding out and surrounded by a horde. Should I have invited the most likely bitten stranger in for tea?” Seonghwa asked in an ironic tone. 

Hongjoong held his chin up high, staring up at Seonghwa. “I told you I wasn’t bitten first thing.” 

“Well, I didn’t trust you then, you could have been lying.” 

Hongjoong’s eyes widened, expression changing. “So you do trust me now.” 

Seonghwa opened his mouth, then closed it. Then one more time, until he found his voice. “I should go. You’re home,” he murmured.

Something flashed in Hongjoong’s eyes. “So you’re really leaving.” 

Seonghwa looked down. “I... I shouldn't stay,” he whispered. 

“Why, Seonghwa? Why can't you stay?”

Seonghwa swallowed, already feeling his throat burn. “I... just can't.”

He didn’t know why it hurt so much when Hongjoong actually stepped away from him. _He_ was the one telling him to. 

Someone cleared his throat behind them and Seonghwa remembered they were being watched. 

“You should come inside just for a moment. Rest, eat something,” Yunho offered.

“It’s fine,” Seonghwa said, shaking his head, declining.

Yunho smiled, like it came easy to him. “I’m sure it is, but some water and some fresh sashimi is the least we offer as a thank you for bringing Hongjoong-hyung back.”

Seonghwa considered, then a treacherous voice said that if he accepted, he would get to see Hongjoong for a bit longer. 

“Okay.” 

“Great. It's this way,” Yunho said, pulling Mingi by the hand.

Mingi leaned closer to Yunho when they were distant enough from Seonghwa and Hongjoong. “What are you doing?” he whispered.

Yunho huffed. “Buying some time.” 

Mingi frowned. “What? Why?” 

Yunho then laughed, lacing an arm around his boyfriend’s waist. “You’re so oblivious, it’s kind of cute.” Mingi just frowned. “It looked like Hongjoong-hyung would rather be stabbed again than watch him leave.” 

Mingi stared for a few more seconds before he realized. _“Ooh.”_

“Exactly.” 

\--

Yeosang startled when he felt a presence behind him, but then there were familiar arms lacing around his waist and a hot press on the back of his neck. 

“Hey,” Wooyoung whispered, effectively making Yeosang relax against him. “What are you doing out here alone? It’s cold.” 

“It’s not that bad,” he lied, knowing his palms were getting numb from holding the icy steel railing. 

As if to prove Wooyoung was right, a strong wind rattled their hair, the boat swaying gently on the slightly agitated sea. 

“It’s just about to start raining, Yeosang, we should go back inside.” 

Yeosang turned around, placing his freezing hands on Wooyoung’s neck. He shrieked and Yeosang laughed, not letting him get away. 

“Stop it! Ah, it hurts!”

Yeosang laughed harder. “Don’t be such a drama queen, it doesn’t _hurt_ , it’s just a little bit cold.”

Wooyoung swatted his boyfriend’s hands away. “Yes, it does!”

“Woo, careful, we’re both going to fall on the ocean,” Yeosang said laughing, pushing Wooyoung away from the railings and further into the deck.

“What’s going on?” Jongho’s voice called from somewhere in the lounge area. “Why is Wooyoung _screaming?_ ” 

A snort. “Did you really just ask why Wooyoung is screaming?” San asked, sounding like he was close to Jongho. 

A pause. “Fair enough,” Jongho said. “Everything alright out there?” 

“Fine!” Wooyoung and Yeosang answered together. 

San appeared from below deck, spotting the couple and going to them. As usual, one of San’s hands found a way to Wooyoung and the other Yeosang. San could only last so long without physical contact. Yeosang had a theory he might combust without it. 

“It's going to rain soon,” San commented. “Are Mingi and Yunho not back from the pier round yet?”

“No,” Wooyoung said. “Maybe they wanted some alone time. To… you know.” 

San snorted. “They have their room for that… and the jacuzzi on the top deck.” 

Yeosang scrunched his nose. “Now, why did you have to say that?” 

“Because it’s true. It’s not like we use the jacuzzi anyway.”

“We use the common space around it, Sannie!” Yeosang argued.

“So?” 

“So that I don’t want to imagine their naked butts touching the sofas around it, stop talking right now. Shut up.”

San huffed. “Prude.” 

Yeosang rolled his eyes. “Yes, San, I’m a prude because my boyfriend and I don’t have sex in the common spaces we all use.” 

“What did I just walk into?” Jongho asked, frozen at the door, a deep frown on his face.

Yeosang shook his head and sighed. “Just San being San, never mind him.”

Knowing San, that was a good enough explanation to Jongho. “I think I’m going to go out to look for Min and Yunho, it’s about to start raining.” 

“Yeah, we were just saying,” Wooyoung said. “Let's wait a bit longer, though, they should already be on their way back. They know not to stay out when it rains.” 

That was one of the rules Hongjoong had to make after a particularly brutal storm where half of the group was out doing rounds. It had been hard to get everyone back on board with how violent the sea had become and since then it was a hard rule that no one left when it rained.

Taking from how silence suddenly fell between them it was clear they were all thinking about the same thing. 

Yeosang felt his chest ache just like it had the entire week ever since San, Yunho, and Mingi had come back from that supply run without Hongjoong. He knew his role in their group well by then, so Yeosang went to San and placed an arm over his shoulder. Comforting, grounding. 

San had been one of the people who saw it happening, and even though everyone was grieving in their own way, he had been having it especially bad with the night terrors. 

Yeosang squeezed him gently. “You okay?” he murmured. 

And how San was glad to have Yeosang. He managed a smile. “Yeah, fine.” 

Yeosang hummed. “Go throw yourself on my boyfriend, then,” he said, a small smile on his lips. 

San chuckled and used the opportunity to lighten up the mood, running in Wooyoung's direction, who stumbled back not to fall down. “You heard the man!” San said, squeezing Wooyoung’s neck, who screamed in retaliation, even if he was more than used to San’s almost violent hugs by then. 

Jongho and Yeosang laughed at the scene and just like that, they made it another hour. 

Yeosang had learned a long time ago that dealing with that much loss, that much pain, only worked if you took a small step at a time. 

Wooyoung had been spinning San around in a weird hug-turned-into-battle when suddenly he stopped. Then the smile fell and everything about him _stopped_. 

Yeosang watched the same thing happen to San, then to Jongho before he turned around to see what the hell they were looking at.

He was aware of the blood rushing to his ears, thumping, deafening, covering up all the gasps, the unbelieving whispers of Hongjoong’s name, the sound of someone starting to cry beside him. 

Everything ceased to exist and all that Yeosang could see was Hongjoong, standing at the deck a few steps away from them, _alive_.

Yeosang's body went numb, feeling like he was on the water, floating, trapped in that place between awareness and sleep. Then something suddenly yanked him out of it and brought him back to reality.

A voice. A voice he hadn’t heard in a long time. A voice he thought he would never hear again.

“Yeosang?” 

When Seonghwa stepped from behind Yunho Yeosang held his breath, because he could have imagined the voice, but he couldn’t possibly make up a vision of Seonghwa that perfect in his head. 

Seonghwa took a step forward, eyes wide and breathing shallow. “Yeosangie, is that you?” he asked, voice small, breakable. 

“Seonghwa,” Yeosang whispered, looking at his best friend with wide eyes.

It was officially too much. Yeosang felt his eyes blurring, then his knees giving in and he just caved.

Yeosang wanted to move, wanted to stand, wanted to _look_ , but all he could do was cry. In relief, in despair, in disbelief. 

He made noises he didn’t even know he could, face buried on his hands as his entire body shook beyond his control. 

Yeosang felt arms going around him, a hand brushing up and down on his back in such a familiar, such a _Seonghwa_ way it just made Yeosang cry harder. 

“Hey, it's okay,” Seonghwa whispered, pulling Yeosang closer. “Yeosang, it's okay.”

Yeosang reacted to Seonghwa’s voice, arms suddenly grabbing him, clawing at his back desperately, like he was afraid Seonghwa would stand up and leave. 

“You’re not d-dead,” Yeosang said between sobs, head buried on the curve of Seonghwa’s neck. “Hwa, you're n-not dead.”

“You’re here,” Seonghwa said, sounding just as shocked as Yeosang felt. “How are you here?” 

Yeosang pulled away and opened his eyes, staring at his best friend’s face. He smiled, a watery but blissful one. “You're alive. I can't believe y-you're alive.”

Seonghwa laughed and nodded. “What, didn't think I could handle myself?”

Yeosang huffed, hugging him again. “S-shut up.”

Seonghwa closed his eyes and breathed in relief, squeezing Yeosang into his arms. Seonghwa had dreamed about that moment so many times it was hard to believe it was real. He was afraid to close his eyes and have it be gone when he opened them.

“You're blonde,” Seonghwa said suddenly and felt Yeosang's body shaking with laughter. 

Yeosang nodded, pulling away again. The tip of his nose was red and his shoulders were still shaking. “It's the end of the world, I thought what the hell, you know?”

Seonghwa brushed a strand behind Yeosang's ear and nodded, a wide smile lifting his face. “It suits you.” 

Yeosang snorted a watery laugh, lowering his head on Seonghwa’s shoulder again. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “I thought I was never going to see you again.”

Seonghwa brushed his hand through Yeosang’s hair fondly, almost in a reflex. “I thought that too. I missed you so much. I missed you every day,” he confessed. 

Yeosang’s nodded into Seonghwa’s shirt, agreeing. “I missed you too.” 

There was silence for a while, just the reality sinking in as they kept each other as close as they could. Yeosang was so happy he couldn’t keep the smile off his face, even if he was still crying. 

Seonghwa was alive. Seonghwa was _alive_ , he couldn’t believe it. 

Yeosang had been ignoring the voices around him, ignoring anything that wasn’t Seonghwa, but then he heard Hongjoong’s voice and he remembered. 

“Oh my god. Hongjoong-hyung,” Yeosang said, pulling away from Seonghwa so he could search for Hongjoong.

He was just alive as Seonghwa, their group surrounding him, Jongho attached to his side with tears streaming down his face. San and Wooyoung were close too, holding his hand, his arm, but surprisingly, they weren’t looking at Hongjoong. 

In fact, _no one_ was, all eyes on him and Seonghwa, wide and surprised.

“Hongjoong-hyung, how-” Yeosang began, but then he sighed, glancing between Seonghwa and Hongjoong. “This is too much.” 

“Is he really your Seonghwa?” Mingi asked. “Like _your_ Seonghwa? The ones from the stories?”

Yeosang couldn’t believe it himself. “Yeah.”

“Holy fuck,” Yunho murmured. 

Seonghwa was still disoriented and ecstatic, but his brain found something else to focus on: a familiar face. “Wooyoung.” 

Wooyoung smiled and nodded, like he couldn’t believe it too. “Yeah, hyung.”

Hongjoong frowned. “Wait, I asked if you’d met Yeosang’s brother. You said no.” 

“Well, I didn’t _meet_ him, we were on different continents,” Wooyoung clarified. “But Yeosang and Seonghwa-hyung facetimed all the time, so we’ve seen each other plenty before. He used to help me study for my tests, even, because Yeosang always fell asleep 10 minutes into my study session.” 

Hongjoong looked at Seonghwa then. “I thought you were an economics major.” 

Seonghwa nodded. “I was.” 

Yeosang looked between the two. “You know each other?” he asked, trying to understand how such different parts of his world could fit together.

“Seonghwa saved me,” Hongjoong said after a brief pause.

“I thought Mingi had stabbed you,” Yeosang said and Seonghwa’s eyes went wide.

“He did,” Hongjoong confirmed. 

“Wait,” Seonghwa said, then he looked at Mingi. No, he _glared_ at Mingi. “ _You_ stabbed him?” he growled, voice suddenly low and threatening. 

Yeosang looked back at Seonghwa and frowned. He was familiar with Seonghwa's bursts of anger, but he was confused as to what had caused it that time.

Mingi took an instinctual step closer to Yunho at the same time Hongjoong came forward to defend him. “It was an accident.” 

Seonghwa scoffed. “Are you forgetting I was the one that treated the wound? It did _not_ look accidental. It’s deep!”

“He missed an undead and got me,” Hongjoong explained. 

Seonghwa narrowed his eyes at Hongjoong, licking his lips once before saying, “Couldn’t have known, since that’s not the story you told me.” 

Yeosang recognized the bitter tone, growing more and more confused by the scene unfolding before his eyes. 

“I lied.” 

A beat of silence, no one sure of what to say, feeling the air grow heavy. 

San was the first to clear his throat. “Let’s go inside, hyung, Woo and I should check on you and that wound.” 

“It’s about to rain, we should all get inside,” Jongho added. 

Yeosang nodded, then looked at Seonghwa. “You look tired, are you okay? Do you want some water? Something to eat?” 

Seonghwa smiled again. “I’m okay. Not tired.”

Yeosang heard a snort. “That’s a lie. He does that a lot,” Hongjoong said before Yeosang could reply. 

Yeosang recognized the tone in Hongjoong’s voice then. Bitter, resentful. Unusual for him. 

Yeosang frowned. What the hell had happened between those two?

\--

“I had never seen him cry before.” 

Seonghwa had been so lost in thought watching the rain pour and agitated sea through the window he didn’t even notice anyone get close. 

“What?” Seonghwa asked in a low voice, since Yeosang was sleeping with the head on his lap, face buried on his stomach. 

San smiled faintly, motioning to Yeosang’s sleeping form. “In the two years since everything started, I didn’t see Yeosang cry once, not even when Min, Yunho and I came home without Hongjoong. He didn’t shed one tear. Not until he saw you today.”

Seonghwa huffed a faint laugh. “He doesn’t cry in front of other people,” Seonghwa explained. “He was telling me about the group before falling asleep. He cares, I can tell, it’s just- Yeosang has always been this way, feeling like he needs to be strong for other people.”

San could see Seonghwa had misunderstood him, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. “Oh, I know he cares, that’s not what I meant. It’s just… he doesn’t talk about _before_ a lot, I think it’s still really hard for him. But he talks about you. It’s like it just slips out, he can’t help it.” 

Seonghwa smiled, thumb brushing Yeosang’s shoulder gently, not even noticing he was doing it. “We met really young, we grew up doing everything together. Most of my stories have him in it too.”

San tipped his head. “Aren’t you brothers?” 

“He told you that?” San nodded and Seonghwa huffed, glancing at Yeosang fondly. “We’re not related by blood, we just always been close like siblings.”

San hummed in understanding, then looked at Yeosang, curled up around Seonghwa, hand fisted in his shirt even in his sleep, afraid to let him go. 

“I’m happy he got you back.” 

Seonghwa looked at San and smiled. San seemed like a good person, they all did… not that Seonghwa was willing to trust them, but if they had taken care of Yeosang for that long, they deserved the benefit of the doubt. 

“Yeosang told me you crossed the Pacific in this,” Seonghwa motioned around them, “that’s- insane. I didn’t even know yachts could cross oceans.”

San huffed. “Oh, you can cross oceans in a much smaller yacht than this, the trip was fine. The real problem was when we got to Korea.” 

“How so?” 

San figured Yeosang hadn’t had time to explain everything yet. “This yacht was my family’s, did Yeosang tell you that?” Seonghwa nodded, he had, because one of Seonghwa’s first questions had been _how did you manage to get inside a boat like this? This is crazy rich people shit._ “Even though I was studying to be a doctor, I was never a skeptical person. At all. As soon as the disease started, I knew that could be the pilot episode of _The Walking Dead._ ” Seonghwa laughed at that. He had also watched that show, and it was crazy to think he had been entertained by something that turned out to be his dark life. “I called my uncle that lived in California and said we needed to go back to Korea. He agreed, but the flights were already being cancelled, so he just suggested we take one of his yachts.

“Wooyoung was the only other Korean guy in my class, so we had been friends since the start of the course. I asked if he wanted to come and he said yes. Yeosang won the boyfriend ticket,” San said with a smile. “Jongho was just lucky, he overheard us talking in Korean in the supermarket near our university about the trip and begged to take him too. Neither of us had even met him before, he was a freshman and studied on the other side of the campus, but I couldn’t say no. He just wanted to go back to Korea for his family, like us, so I agreed to take him. We left California that same day, Woo, Yeosang, Jongho, my uncle and I.”

Had San really agreed to take a stranger on a trip like that on the same day he’d met him? That seemed like a wrong move even for before standards.

Seonghwa had a lot of questions, but he let San get to his point. 

“The trip itself was delightful,” San said, sounding honest. “I mean, we were on a luxurious four-deck yacht, going back to Korea where, as far as we knew, it was safe. We lost signal on our phones pretty early, so for 20 days we were just sailing thinking everything was going to be fine. We would talk until late in the night, have drinks in the jacuzzi, my uncle taught me and Yeosangie how to sail… it was like a vacation, we almost forgot there was a real world outside the utopia we’d created.” Seonghwa could tell the story was about to change, because San had just become much more serious. “Getting to Korea was like getting a bucket of cold water to the head. The country was overrun- actually, the world had been overrun while we drank mimosas on the sea.” A small pause. “My uncle died on the third day.”

“I’m sorry,” Seonghwa said, because he genuinely was. One of the things from before that hadn’t changed was how much loss and grief still hurt.

“Thank you,” San said with a small smile, then sighed. “So yeah, getting to Korea was the real challenge, because the four of us went from practically strangers to all the other had from one day to the other.” 

Seonghwa glanced around the large lounge. It was late in the night, pouring, cold, but everyone was staying there together. 

Mingi and Yunho were cozied together on the fluffy rug, Wooyoung, Jongho and Hongjoong sitting on the couch in front of them wrapped in blankets, talking in murmurs, leaning into each other. No one seemed to want to go back into their rooms, no one seemed to want to leave each other’s companies after thinking they had lost each other. 

Seonghwa could understand, since he would rather die than let Yeosang out of his sight again.

“It seems to have worked out alright,” Seonghwa said. 

San smiled, warm, genuine. It came easily to him, Seonghwa was noticing. “It did, yeah.” 

There was a comfortable silence, Yeosang still fast asleep and San looking at the rain falling outside. Seonghwa’s eyes drifted across the room again, stopping on Hongjoong without him even noticing. 

He seemed tired, but happy, nodding lazily to encourage the story Yunho was telling. Seonghwa liked seeing this side of Hongjoong, soft, genuine. 

Seonghwa looked out of the window again when he realized he was smiling. 

\-- 

Hongjoong’s eyes fluttered open when he heard a noise.

His head was resting on Jongho’s shoulder, who was still asleep. He looked around, it seemed everyone had fallen asleep at the lounge, talking and listening to the rain. 

Everyone but the person on the other side of the room, obviously trying to keep quiet as he sneaked out the front door. 

Hongjoong was still sleepy, so it took a moment to understand what was happening. 

That was Seonghwa. He was leaving in the middle of the night, without saying goodbye, under the pouring rain. 

Hongjoong felt his heart tighten as he watched Seonghwa leave, a side of him undeniably expecting him to stop and come back, but he didn’t. 

He didn’t even look back. 

Hongjoong swallowed the bitter taste on his tongue and told himself that was it. Seonghwa had made his choice and he would have to accept it. 

Except he couldn’t.

Hongjoong did his best to get up without waking up Jongho, pushing him to lean on Wooyoung instead. The youngest groaned, but didn’t wake, throwing his arm on top of Wooyoung and falling back into a deep sleep. 

Hongjoong got up and followed Seonghwa out, into the rain, shivering once the cold drops hit his skin. Once he was at the deck, he saw Seonghwa was already past the pier, walking on the parking lot toward the car.

So he really was leaving. 

Hongjoong followed, hands curling into fists and anger coming so hot up his throat he wasn’t even bothered by the freezing rain, letting it soak his hair and his clothes. How _dared_ he? Seonghwa thought after everything he could just sneak out in the middle of the night? 

When Seonghwa opened the door to the car and got inside, Hongjoong ran. His bruised body throbbed and complained at the effort, but Hongjoong didn’t stop until he was throwing himself in the front of the car, watching Seonghwa’s expression go from calm to terrified upon noticing him. 

“What the _fuck_ are you doing?” Hongjoong screamed, glaring at Seonghwa through the glass. He put both his hands on the hood, leaning in. “Get out of the car,” he hissed. Seonghwa had the audacity of staring at Hongjoong like he was crazy. “Get out, Seonghwa, get out!” he yelled. “Get the fuck out of this car before I go there and drag you out myself-”

Seonghwa did, slamming the door behind him and glancing around to see if he had alerted any undead. “Stop screaming! What the hell is wrong with you?” Seonghwa came close. _Very_ close, glaring at Hongjoong. 

_How dared he._

Hongjoong didn’t bother answering his question. “So this is it? You’re sneaking out in the middle of the night and disappearing forever? Not even saying goodbye?” He hated how much emotion bled into his voice, but he couldn’t help it, because just how heartless was Seonghwa?

Something like realization flashed Seonghwa’s face and he leaned away, frown softening. “Hongjoong, I’m not-” 

“How could you do this to Yeosang?” Hongjoong interrupted, voice getting even more high pitched. “He’s been mourning you for two years and he just got you back! You can’t leave him again, this will break him. He pretends he doesn’t care, but he does! He really cares!”

Seonghwa’s eyes became hard again. It was like Hongjoong just had this special gift, he managed to bring all Seonghwa’s emotions to the surface with very little effort. “Don’t tell me how to handle Yeosang, he’s _my_ best friend!” 

“He’s my friend too and I won’t let you abandon him like this! He’s lost too much.” 

Seonghwa huffed in annoyance, running a hand through his soaked hair as if he was trying to collect himself. Bastard. 

Before he could say anything else, Hongjoong continued, “What is your problem? What could I have possibly done to you that you think abandoning your childhood best friend is worth it if it keeps you from being around me? Huh?!”

“This is not about you, Hongjoong!”

Hongjoong was so angry he wanted to stomp his feet on the ground. “So why are you leaving? Why is it so impossible for you to give us a chance? We’re good people, Seonghwa, but you’re so- you’re _so_ \- stubborn you don’t even allow yourself to try! You would rather face this fucked up world alone than giving us a chance! What an asshole!” Hongjoong’s heart was racing and his eyes were burning, but he couldn't stop now even if he wanted to. “I know you don’t care about me, you made that… perfectly clear. But don’t do this to Yeosang. Please, I can’t see my family suffer any more than what they already have.” 

Seonghwa remained in silence, raindrops running down his annoyingly stoic and impassive face at the same time Hongjoong felt like his chest was about to explode. He was panting, his breath fogging in the frigid air, soaked to the bone and feeling like his heart was on his sleeve, exposed, about to be crushed by Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and took out something, a small bottle. 

Hongjoong froze, but not from the cold.

“It’s close to midnight,” Seonghwa said, voice even. “Time for you to take your meds.” 

Hongjoong stared at the small bottle so hard he could probably burn a hole in it. 

“But they were in the car, so I came to get them,” Seonghwa said once Hongjoong looked up at him again. Seonghwa took a perfectly measured breath. “You think you got me all figured out, that’s why you judge me and assume I’m some sort of monster for not acting exactly like you expect me to.” 

“I don't... what else was I supposed to assume in this situation?” Hongjoong asked, helpless.

“You could have asked me, Hongjoong.”

“Please, Seonghwa. You would have just lied to me.”

Seonghwa lowered his head, because he couldn't argue with Hongjoong about that when all he offered him in their last conversation were lies. Lies to protect himself, but lies nonetheless.

“I’m an asshole, I can be difficult and I am stubborn, yes, but I’m trying, Hongjoong. I’ve gone through a lot, it’s not easy to believe when good things happen to me.”

Hongjoong couldn’t possibly find anything to say, so he just stared.

“It may take a while for me to- accept things,” Seonghwa said, struggling a bit to keep eye contact. “And I may say differently, but I don’t really have it in me to walk out on the people I care about.” 

Seonghwa took Hongjoong’s hand and turned the palm up, placing the small bottle there. His hands fell back to his side and he turned around, walking back to the boat and leaving Hongjoong in the rain, thinking about how much of an asshole _he_ had been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for such a warm reception, I'm really glad you're enjoying the story!
> 
> Thanks to my beta for her patience, you can find her [here](https://twitter.com/minginacho) and you can find me [here](https://twitter.com/unihongs)!
> 
> STREAM FIREWORKS ON YOUTUBE! 
> 
> ♡


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